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KICK FORMATION 


BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 


YARDLEY HALL SERIES 


Fourth Down 
Forward Pass 
Double Play 
Winning His Y 


Guarding His Goal 
For Yardley 
Around the End 
Change Signals 


PURPLE PENNANT SERIES 
The Lucky Seventh The Secret Play 
The Purple Pennant 


HILTON SERIES ERSKINE SERIES 

The Half-Back “ Behind the Line 
For the Honor of the Weatherby’s Inning 
School On Your Mark 

Captain of the Crew 


THE “BIG FOUR” SERIES 
Four in Camp Four Afoot 

Four Afloat 


THE GRAFTON SERIES 
Rivals for the Team Hitting the Line 
Winning His Game 

BOOKS NOT IN SERIES 
Kick Formation 

Three Base Benson The Lost Dirigible 
For the Freedom of Under the Yankee 
the Seas Ensign 

Keeping His Course Benton’s Venture 
The Brother of a Hero The Junior Trophy 
Finkler’s Field The New Boy at 

Danforth Plays the Hilltop 

Game The Spirit of the School 

The Arrival of Jimpson The Play that Won 

1 ! y : , • t -' A ^ 


D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, New York 


T 72 M 





“TOUCHDOWN ! TOUCHDOWN !” IMPLORED THE NORTH BANK ROOTERS. 

[Page 248.] 


KICK FORMATION 


BY 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

AUTHOR OP “THREE-BASE BENSON,” “FOURTH DOWN,” ETC. 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK : : 1921 : : LONDON 

C<r|'o> Cj 




COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


% 2 - 


TRINTED IN THU UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Stranger on the Train 1 

II. The Wardrobe Trunk 14 

III. On the River 23 

IV. The Boy in the Gray Canoe 32 

V. Jerry Sees His First Game 40 

VI. The Cabin in the Woods 53 

VII. Jerry Tries His Foot 62 

VIII. Mount Saint Anne’s Scores 72 

IX. Jerry Accepts an Invitation 83 

X. First Lessons 96 

XI. Left Behind 107 

XII. The Practice Game 115 

XIII. Jordan Loses His Temper 126 

XIV. Joe and Tub Entertain 138 

XV. Conspirators 148 

XVI. In the Enemy’s Camp 160 

XVII. “Ball! Ball!” 169 

XVIII. Ashley Agrees to Quit 177 

XIX. A Wet Field 189 

XX. New Plays 195 

XXI. Uninvited Guests 209 

XXII. A Narrow Margin 223 

XXIII. “Are You Ready, North Bank?” 235 

XXIV. The Stolen Football 246 

XXV. Exit Jerry, Singing 259 


























I • 








KICK FORMATION 


CHARTER I 

THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 

J ERRY BENSON reached Washington, on his 
way back to North Bank School, two days late. 
This was not the fault of the railroad, as one 
who has traveled from Huckinsburg, North Carolina, 
to Washington might readily suspect, but was entirely 
due to the fact that Jerry had left home forty-eight 
hours after he should have. “Pap” Huckins, who was 
Jerry’s foster-father — his parents had died when he 
was a baby — had been poorly all summer and then'* 
had been no one to take his place in the little store 
when it had come time for Jerry to leave. So Jerry 
had stayed on until Pap had been able to hobble over, 
with the aid of his old holly-wood cane, and take com- 
mand of the situation again. Just to be quite on the 
safe side, Jerry had dispatched a few lines to Mr. Led- 1 
yard, the school secretary, explaining everything, and 
so, when he climbed aboard the electric train that was 
to take him on the next leg of his journey, he had a 
clear conscience and an untroubled mind. Also, having 
1 


KICK FORMATION 


dined well if not extravagantly in a white-tiled cafe- 
teria, he was blessed with a fine sense of repletion and 
well-being. He had purchased a magazine with a vivid 
cover and contents to match, and now, his ancient 
valise safely between his feet and the train proceeding 
sedately through the squalid environs of the Capital, 
he settled back to a comfortable perusal of the startling 
adventures of the hero of “The Pearl Poachers of 
Bamba Strait.” 

Jerry’s taste in literature was catholic to a degree. 
Last spring he had quite appalled Tom Hartley, his 
chum and roommate, by devouring everything in the 
;way of American history he could lay his hands on, 
just as though, as Tom said ruefully, there wasn’t 
enough of it to be found in the school curriculum! 
And between whiles Jerry had been found digging 
tentatively into a sheepskin-bound volume entitled 
Jemmison on Jurisprudence. All of which, how- 
ever, did not keep Jerry from devouring the stories 
and serials in Tom’s Saturday Evening Post. The 
pearl poachers were a bold, bad lot, and Jerry found 
their doings most interesting, and yet, right in the 
middle of the story, he found his attention faltering 
until, in obedience to some compelling force, his gaze 
wandered from the page and crossed the swaying car 
to where it encountered another. Jerry understood 
then why he had looked away from the magazine. The 
intent regard of the broad-shouldered stranger across 
the aisle would have penetrated the preoccupation of 
any one. They were very bright eyes that met Jerry’s, 


THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 

and very keen ones, and, ere they moved leisurely past 
him, they expressed a more than casual interest. The 
man was large in a lean, well-muscled way and his 
face was at once grave and pleasant. Although where 
his straw hat had been pushed slightly back from his 
forehead — the weather was warm for mid-September 
— the man’s hair was well grizzled with white, Jerry 
judged him to be no more than thirty. Jerry, return- 
ing to his story, chuckled to himself. 

‘‘He’s right nice looking,” he thought, “but, golly, 
if I’d robbed a bank or something I’d sure hate to find 
him watching me!” 

After that he thought no more of the man across 
the aisle, and in course of time Naval Academy Junc- 
tion was reached and Jerry took up his valise and made 
his way outside to the platform. Disdainfully the 
train sped on toward Baltimore, leaving Jerry and a 
handful of others to seek the shade and await the 
Annapolis train. Among those others was the broad- 
shouldered, brown-faced man he had caught looking 
at him. He took a seat on a bench, placed his suitcase 
between his feet and spread a Washington paper before 
him. Jerry studied him, conscious of an interest that 
he couldn’t explain. He had never seen the stranger 
before and would probably never see him again. Nor 
was there anything unusual about him to claim atten- 
tion. Yet half a dozen times, having forcibly removed 
his gaze from the man, Jerry found his eyes returning 
to him. After all, there was not much to look at at 
the Junction: just four tracks running away to as 
3 


KICK FORMATION 


many points of the compass, a station, a store, a switch- 
tower, all sizzling in the heat ; and he may be excused 
for making the most of what seemed the more inter- 
esting. The other passengers, enduring the wait with 
what patience they could find, offered no interest at 
all to Jerry: a tired-looking woman with a restless 
baby and many bundles, a drummer with a sample- 
case, three inoffensive and colorless men of varying 
ages and four khaki-clad “doughboys” from the nearby 
camp. It was the latter, however, who eventually 
created a diversion that drew Jerry’s attention from 
the interesting stranger. 

The soldiers had paid a visit to the store and had 
each returned with a bottle of strawberry-hued concoc- 
tion which, it seemed, they had already lost their taste 
for. Further along the platform was a rudely-fash- 
ioned crate which stood, with two or three trunks — 
Jerry’s among them — on a truck. In the crate was 
a nondescript dog, one of the sort which, for want of 
a better name, is generally referred to as a rabbit dog. 
The weather was pretty hot and the traveler wasn’t 
very happy in his confined quarters, and Jerry, who 
had a weakness for dogs, had noticed the fact and 
had felt sorry for him. Now, wandering along the 
platform, the khaki-clad quartet discovered a source of 
mild amusement in the animal. One of them who 
wore a sergeant’s chevron — none of the four appeared 
more than twenty — conceived the idea of trying the 
tonic on the dog. The latter wagged a feeble tail ana 
lapped eagerly enough at the mouth of the bottle, thrust 
4 


THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 


through the slats of the crate. That moved the soldiers 
to laughter, and it was then that Jerry, willing to be 
amused, sauntered nearer and looked on. 

“Say, he likes it all right,” said one of the dough- 
boys. “Give him mine, Pete. Don't spill it, you fool ! 
Gee, he's some thirsty, that mutt !” 

“Likes it 'cause it's sweet, I guess,” said another. 
“What’s he got in the tin dish there?” 

“Looks like water,” answered the sergeant. 

“Pour the tonic in there. He'd rather have it. 
Give him a good time, Pete. Looks like he’d die if he 
saw a square meal, don't he ?” 

“Say ‘bone’ to him and he'd fall in a faint,” agreed 
the sergeant as he prepared to empty the contents 
of one of the bottles into the shallow tin dish. 

“Reckon I wouldn't do that,” said a drawling 
Southern voice at his elbow. “He's going to need 
that water a heap before he gets where he's going, 
and that sweet stuff will just make him thirstier.” 

The sergeant looked around and ran his gaze de- 
risively over the person of the intruder. He saw a 
tow-haired youth of seventeen with a plain but likable 
countenance from which, under light lashes, two pale- 
blue eyes looked placidly and good-humoredly forth. 
The boy was fairly tall for his age, a bit raw-boned 
and loose- jointed and not too well supplied with flesh. 
He wore a neat but inexpensive suit of blue serge and 

yellowed straw hat, and no one would have made 
the mistake of supposing that either was purchased on 
5 


KICK FORMATION 


Fifth Avenue. The sergeant grunted as he straight- 
ened up, the bottle in his hand dribbling its brilliantly 
colored contents to the platform. 

“ What’s troublin' you, sonny?" he asked disdain- 
fully. 

Jerry smiled placatingly and blinked his blue eyes. 
“I was saying if you-all pour that stuff in his drinking 
dish he’s going to be powerful unhappy mighty soon. 
’Tain’t going to satisfy his thirst like water does." 

“Is he your dog?" demanded one of the men. 

“No, he ain’t mine, but " 

“Chase yourself then, kid!" returned the sergeant. 
“This pup’s a whale for tonic ; just laps it up ! Here, 
Fido, have some more." 

“I wouldn’t do it," reiterated Jerry earnestly as the 
sergeant again prepared to add the contents of the 
bottle to the dish. “He’s going to be right thirsty 
without any water." 

“Aw, shut up!" was the answer. “What are you 
butting in here for, anyway, you country jay? What 
business is it of yours?" 

The tonic gurgled into the drinking dish as Jerry 
replied mildly: “I was just tellin’ you." 

“Yeah, well, I’m just telling you to beat it before 
I hand you a wallop," snarled the sergeant. Jerry 
blinked again, but he didn’t look alarmed. Neither 
did he accept the advice. He stood silently by while 
the dog lapped half-heartedly at the mixture of tonic 
and water and then, turning away from it, looked in 
friendly inquiry at the strangers. 

6 


THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 


“Go on and drink it,” said one of the soldiers. 
“That stuff costs money, dog!” But the dog only 
wagged his tail. 

“Guess he’s looking for the meat course,” chuckled 
another. There was a shrill whistle from up the track 
and the electric train bore down on the station. The 
sergeant tossed the empty bottle aside and the quartet 
turned away. Jerry looked speculatively from the 
approaching train to his satchel and from that to the 
empty bottle. Then he looked at the dog and made 
up his mind. 

“There’ll be another one in an hour, I reckon,” he 
muttered. He picked up the bottle and hurried into 
the station with it. Filling it was slow and difficult 
work, and when he returned to the platform the train 
was alongside. As he made his way quickly back to 
the baggage truck he saw that the man with the broad 
shoulders and sun-browned face was standing before 
the crate, and as he drew near the stranger spoke 
crisply. 

“Give me the water,” he said, “and grab your bag. 
They’ll be pulling out in a second.” 

The man had reached into the crate and emptied 
the dish. Jerry obediently relinquished the bottle 
and sped back along the platform just as the conductor 
shouted his warning. A moment later he and the 
stranger were hustling together through the car door, 
the train already moving. 

“A close call,” laughed the man as he swung his 
suitcase to a rack. 


7 


KICK FORMATION 


“Yes, sir,” answered Jerry. “I’m much obliged.” 

“So’s the dog, I guess!” The man nodded in 
friendly fashion and took the empty half of a seat 
and Jerry went on up the aisle to crowd himself apolo- 
getically alongside a stout lady who greeted his advent 
with a sniff of annoyance. Some twenty minutes later 
the train reached Annapolis and at the West Street 
Station many of the passengers alighted. Jerry’s 
quondam acquaintance, however, remained aboard, and 
was still in his place when the boy left the car at 
Church Circle. He looked up as Jerry pushed past 
with his bag and nodded again. 

From the post office comer to the Short Line sta- 
tion was but a few steps and five minutes later Jerry 
was off again. The two-car train rattled and swayed 
its way across the Severn. The broad river was aglow 
in the afternoon sunlight and, eastward, the Naval 
Academy buildings stood out majestically against an 
unclouded sky. A bright blue canoe floated down- 
stream at a little distance and Jerry thought he recog- 
nized the boy who reposed lazily in the bow. It was 
a good two miles and a half from the school to the 
railroad bridge, but some of the hardier mariners 
thought little of the distance. Jerry, born amongst 
the North Carolina hills, had had little experience with 
boats or canoes and was inclined to look askance at 
water for other than drinking or bathing purposes. 
But to-day, watching the blue craft slip gracefully 
along, he half promised himself to test the delights 
of canoeing this fall. 


8 


THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 


He was the only passenger to alight at North Bank 
Station, and, since he had not apprised Mr. Ledyard 
as to the hour of his arrival, the school carriage, drawn 
by two black mules and driven by the equally black 
Cicero, was not there. So he set his valise on one 
shoulder and started off along the dusty, red-clay road. 
Now and then he caught a fleeting glimpse of the 
river, but for most of the way the road was lined 
with woods, with, here and there, a clearing that gave 
a view of a summer residence set between highway and 
river. Occasionally a carriage or automobile jounced 
past, and at such times Jerry sidled well away to 
escape the choking clouds of dust. At last, whistling 
softly a monotonous tune, he came in sight of a privet 
hedge on his right and the tune died away on his lips. 
The well-trimmed hedge formed the boundary of the 
Laurence place, and Major Laurence was a friend of 
Jerry’s, had been ever since the spring, when, to earn 
money for his baseball uniform, Jerry had clipped 
that same hedge and dug the flowerbeds. The Major 
was a lawyer, and the chance acquaintance had di- 
rected Jerry’s ambition in the direction of that pro- 
fession. It had been the Major who had suggested 
the reading of history, but the incursion into juris- 
prudence had been the boy’s idea. Once in sight of 
the comfortable, rambling house, Jerry looked eagerly 
for sight of his friend, but, although the Major’s auto- 
mobile stood before the door, the Major himself was 
not to be seen. 

Jerry had lowered his satchel to one hand now and 
9 


KICK FORMATION 


settled his hat in orderly fashion. A row of tall pop- 
lars ran from the hedge to the river and divided the 
Major’s land from the grounds of the school, and not 
until Jerry had passed the end of their soldierly rank 
were the school buildings in sight. Then they met his 
view all at once : Founders’ Hall with its white cupola, 
the four dormitories half circling it toward the road, 
the gymnasium with its greenish glass roof, even the 
little stable at the far side of the wide expanse of 
turf. Only the boathouse that lay below the bank of 
the river was beyond vision. Just across the hedge 
was the ball field, with its weathered bleachers, and, 
beyond it, the running track and the gridiron and the 
long, low grandstand above which the roof of Follen 
House peered. On the more distant tennis courts 
white-clad forms ran or darted in the sunlight. Jerry, 
though, found more interest nearer at hand, for, from 
beyond the stand that marched with the hedge, came 
sharp cries and hollow thuds, and at intervals brown 
objects hurtled into the air. 

“Football,” he murmured. “Reckon there ain’t any 
hurry. I’ll see what they’re doing.” He looked cau- 
tiously up and down the road and then as cautiously 
over the hedge. Although many were in sight beyond 
the barrier, none was paying heed to him, and he 
tossed his valise across the hedge and then followed 
it, landing, since he had not jumped quite high enough, 
on all fours. Rising, he caught sight, between the tiers 
of seats, of hurrying forms, varicolored yet running 
mostly to khaki and the light blue of North Bank. 
10 


THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 


He picked up his valise and made his way around to 
the nearer end of the stand. 

From there it seemed to Jerry that the entire student 
body, which usually numbered some two hundred, was 
en g a £ e d in football, for, no matter in which direction 
he looked, youths were trotting or plunging or sprawl- 
ing about! However, a second estimate reduced their 
number very considerably. Perhaps, he reflected, there 
were nearer eighty there than two hundred, although, 
like the pig in the story, some of them ran around 
so fast you couldn’t count them ! Near the center of 
the stand a score or so of boys lolled in the seats and 
looked on, while, along the nearer side line, a few 
more stood about in critical survey. Jerry, observing 
the mysterious doings of the players in a frankly 
puzzled way, moved slowly along toward the spec- 
tators. Near by a group of a dozen or so boys in 
khaki pants and faded blue jerseys with strange leather 
pads on the shoulders were going through a series of 
evolutions that seemed to Jerry to possess neither 
rhyme nor reason. One boy — Jerry recognized him as 
Don Sears, who had pitched for the scrubs in the 
spring — was evidently in command. Sears grabbed a 
football from between the outspread legs of a heavy 
youth in front of him and, having rattled off in a shrill 
voice what sounded like an arithmetic problem, tossed 
the ball to another youth, just which one didn’t appear 
to matter in the least, and gave him a violent shove. 
Thereupon the entire group dashed forward, helter- 
skelter, as though they meant to race at breakneck 
11 


KICK FORMATION 


speed to the other end of the field, every one in every 
one else’s way — or so it looked — only to pause abruptly 
a dozen yards further along, place the ball again on 
the ground and once more become set and tense. Jerry 
shook his head, at a loss, and then, aware that his 
wandering along the line had brought him close to one 
of the onlookers, he sought enlightenment. 

“What-all are they doing?” he asked. 

The boy beside him turned, and : “Hello, Benson !” 
he exclaimed. “When did you arrive?” A hand was 
thrust forth and Jerry shifted his valise and took it. 

“Hello,” he answered. “I just got here.” 

“Good work ! Some one was saying that you 
weren’t coming back.” 

“I couldn’t get here any sooner, Naughton. Say, 
what-all are they doing?” Jerry nodded at the group 
whose actions had puzzled him so. 

“Who? Those fellows? Why, practicing forma- 
tions. Haven’t you ever seen football played ?” 

Jerry shook his head. “I wasn’t here last fall,” he 
said. “Reckon Sears isn’t telling them what to do 
right. Every time they start off they have to stop 
and do it over again.” 

Perry Naughton laughed. “It isn’t that bad, Ben- 
son! They’re doing what they set out to — after a 
fashion! Those are mostly new fellows. The first 
squad’s over yonder. Are you and Hartley together 
again this year?” 

“Yes, and I reckon I’d better be getting on. I don’t 
know what they’ll be saying to me for being two days 
12 


THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN 


late. I heard the goings-on in here and stopped to see 
what-all was happening. I’m right pleased to know 
those fellers are doing like they ought, because I 
thought maybe they were crazy!” Jerry smiled and 
nodded and went on, pausing several times, though, to 
return the shouted greetings of friends on the stand. 
But he kept his goal in mind and a few minutes later 
he turned in at the doorway of Baldwin House and 
climbed the stairs to the second floor. Then, a few 
paces along the hall, he turned the knob of Number 7. 


CHAPTER II 


THE WARDROBE TRUNK 

A S Jerry opened the door he was greeted with a 
joyous shout from Tom Hartley. 

“A-a-ay, Jerry! You old renegade, where 
have you been?” 

Tom, who was nearly a year Jerry’s junior, a fine- 
looking boy of sixteen, brown-haired and brown-eyed, 
swung himself from the window seat and seized his 
roommate’s hand. 

“I couldn’t get here any sooner, Tom,” answered 
Jerry, his rather wide mouth curved in a smile of 
pleasure. "‘Pap ain’t been so well lately and I had to 
stay around. How you-all been, Tom?” 

“I-all’s been fine,” laughed Tom. “Didn’t you get 
the letter I wrote just before I left home? I went 
down to New York Monday and stayed until Thurs- 
day morning.” 

Jerry shook his head. “It takes a good while for 
the mail to get to Huckinsburg. Reckon your letter 
got there about this morning.” 

“When did you leave?” 

“Yesterday noon. I wrote Mr. Ledyard I couldn’t 
get here on time. Reckon he’s going to mind?” 

14 


THE WARDROBE TRUNK 


“No. He told me Thursday he’d heard from you. 
I’d have met you if I’d known when you were coming. 
You didn’t say in your letter.” 

“I didn’t know.” Jerry pulled his satchel toward 
him and opened it. “I wasn’t right sure I’d get here 
at all, Pap was so poorly.” 

“That’s too bad,” murmured Tom politely. “What’s 
the trouble?” 

“Sort of a general misery,” replied Jerry gravely. 
“Pap ain’t so young as he was. Reckon he’s pretty 
nigh seventy years old.” Jerry pulled a pair of worn 
and scuffed shoes from the bag and began to unlace 
the ones he had on. “Got me a new pair of shoes 
the other day,” he explained, with a grimace as he 
removed the right one, “and they ain’t broke in yet.” 

“You got them too small, you chump,” said Tom. 
“Don’t you know you can’t put that hoof of yours 
into a pointed-toe shoe ? Where’s your common 
sense?” 

“That’s what I told the feller that sold them to me, 
but he said he didn’t have no wider ones. They’re 
right good-looking, ain’t they?” 

“Jerry, they’re absolutely fierce,” responded Tom 
severely, “and you know it!” 

Jerry chuckled. “Shucks, Tom, I’m right sorry! 
I thought sure you’d like these shoes. Thought maybe 
you’d be asking me to get you a pair just like ’em.” 

“I will when I join the negro minstrels! Where’d 
you get them?” 

“Home.” 


15 


KICK FORMATION 


“In Huckinsburg? You mean you sold them to 
yourself?” 

“Yes, and I had hard work doing it, too!” 

‘Til bet you did!” laughed Tom. “How much did 
you charge yourself for them?” 

“Six dollars and eighty-five cents. That’s just what 
they cost.” 

“Well, the price is the best thing about them. You’ll 
have to remember that when they hurt you.” 

“Yes, I’ve been remembering it all day,” replied 
Jerry sadly. “It don’t help like you’d think it would ! 
Reckon I’d better go over to Hall and tell ’em I’m 
here. And I’ve got to see about having my trunk 
fetched up, too.” 

“Hello, got a trunk, have you? Traveling in style, 
eh? You’re getting to be a regular swell, Jerry.” 

Jerry grinned broadly. “Had so many things I 
couldn’t get them in a valise. Bought me one of those 
wardrobe trunks.” 

“What?” 

Jerry nodded gravely. “Yep, there’s some class to 
me nowadays, Tom.” 

“A wardrobe trunk!” marveled Tom. “Jerry, you 
certainly are coming on ! Got your claw hammer with 
you? Or just a dinner coat?” 

“Nary one. I was thinking about a claw hammer, 
but when the feller looked me over he said a tack 
hammer would come nearer fitting! So I didn’t get 
one. How’s every one, Tom?” 

“All right, I guess. I’m kind of missing some of 
16 


THE WARDROBE TRUNK 


the old faces. Lory Browne’s gone, and Wayne Sort- 
well, of course, and Pop Lord. It’s going to be funny 
without Pop. He was a corking chap, Jerry. And 
he was certainly a dandy baseball captain. We’ll miss 
him.” 

“Reckon the new captain’s just as good, Tom.” 

“The new captain knows better, but he’s certainly 
going to try to make good, Jerry. Fall practice starts 
Wednesday, by the way.” 

“Mean you-all play baseball now?” exclaimed the 
other in surprise. 

“Of course! We practice right into November. 
We don’t have any outside games, but we do a lot 
of hard work. It’s mostly for the new fellows. Fall 
work gets them broken in for spring. How’s your 
batting eye, Jerry?” 

“I don’t know.” Jerry shook his head. “I ain’t — 
haven’t had a bat in my hand since that Cumbridge 
game.” 

“Not since you knocked out the homer that won 
the old ball game, eh? Thought you played in Huck- 
insburg.” 

“Some of ’em did, but I was right busy at the store 
this summer. Reckon Joe Kirkham’s back.” 

“Sure! Joke’s out with the football crowd. So’s 
Tub Keller. And Andy Jackson and two or three more. 
That makes it bad, because I need them for the nine. 
Well, it can’t be helped. You’ll have to give me a 
hand with some of the new chaps.” 

“Learn ’em, you mean ?” 


17 


KICK FORMATION 


‘‘Well, teach them,” answered Tom, with a smile. 

Jerry frowned. “Reckon my grammar’s sort of 
backslid since I’ve been home,” he said. “But, golly, 
Tom, I couldn’t teach nobody noth — anybody any- 
thing!” 

“Oh, yes, you can, son. Anyway, you’ve got to try. 
I can’t do it all.” 

“Won’t Mr. Keegan be around ?” 

“No, the coach doesn’t show up in the fall, Jerry. 
Not the baseball coach. Thorne’ll be here in a day or 
two, though.” 

“Who’s he?” asked the other. 

“Football coach. Didn’t you ever hear of Wesley 
Thorne?” Jerry shook his head a trifle apologetically. 
“ 'Watch Me’ Thorne they used to call him. He was 
an All-Southern tackle for two years. Played with 
University of Virginia. He was a crackajack player, 
but he doesn’t get on here very well. He has a three- 
year contract with us and this is his last. I don’t be- 
lieve he will be back.” 

“Don’t they like him?” asked Jerry. 

“Not much. He isn’t what you’d call popular. 
Guess he’s too strict. With due apologies to you, 
Jerry, you Southerners are rather hard to manage. 
Seems as if you just couldn’t stand authority. Thorne 
is always treading on some fellow’s toes. I don’t mean 
that he’s disliked ; a lot of the fellows like him ; I do, 
myself, although I don’t know him very well ; but the 
football crowd hang away from him, and that won’t 
do if you expect to win. He managed to turn out a 
18 


THE WARDROBE TRUNK 


mighty good team the year before last that lickc 
Cumbridge to a fare-ye-well, but last Fall every one 
pulled in different directions and we got licked for 
keeps. I hope things will work better this year.” 

“What for do they call him ‘Watch Me’?” asked 
Jerry. 

“They say that was a favorite expression of his 
when he was playing. ‘Watch me/ he’d tell the fellow 
he was playing against, ‘Watch me ! Watch me P And 
the other chap would get so busy watching him that 
he couldn’t see him for looking! And ‘Watch Me’ 
would pile through him nine times out of ten ! That’s 
what I’ve heard. He knows a lot of football and I 
guess he could turn out a good team if the fellows 
would let him. But take a fellow like Mansfield, Jerry. 
You know him, don’t you?” 

“To speak to.” 

“Well, he’s not a bad sort, and he’s a corking player, 
and he’s pretty well liked, but he ought never to be 
^football captain. All you’ve got to do to get Hal 
Mansfield down on you is contradict him. He thinks 
he knows it all and can’t stand any one telling him a 
thing. Of course there’ll be trouble the minute Thome 
tries to run the team the way he wants it run. Well, 
it’s not my funeral. Look here, are you going over 
to Hall or are you going to sit there nursing your 
foot the rest of the day?” 

“I’m aiming to go over,” replied Jerry mildly. “I 
was just pondering.” 

“What were you pondering, you idiot?” 

19 


KICK FORMATION 


“Whether I could play football. Reckon I could, 
Tom?” 

“You? No, I don’t. Now look here, son, don’t 
get that bee in your bonnet. You aren’t cut out for 
football. Besides, there’s no sense in spoiling a good 
baseball man to make a punk football player. Also — 
and mind this, Jerry — I need you a heap more than 
Mansfield does! Come on, and I’ll walk over with 
you.” 

Crossing the yard, Tom reverted to the subject. 
“What put football in that crazy bean of yours any- 
way?” he demanded. 

“Well, I seen — saw them playing it when I came 
along,” answered Jerry, “and it looked so plumb fool- 
ish I got a hankering to try it !” 

“Yes,” responded Tom scathingly, “you would if 
it was anything foolish! You keep away from that 
football field, son, or I’ll tan your hide! Hear me?” 

“Yeah, but maybe I’d make a right smart football 
feller,” said Jerry, shaking his head doubtfully. “You 
can’t tell.” 

“Can’t you? I can!” Tom propelled him rudely 
up the steps of Founders’ Hall. “The only football job 
you’d ever get would be understudying the dummy!” 

Ten minutes later, returning from a perfectly satis- 
factory interview with the school secretary, Tom an- 
nounced: “You’re at our table, Jerry. I got them 
to keep a place for you. We’ve got a dandy crowd : 
Joke and Tub Keller and Billy Conger and Pete 
Norris ” 


20 


THE WARDROBE TRUNK 

“How’s any one else going to get anything to eat if 
Norris is there?” asked Jerry. 

“Oh, ‘Fat’ is on the eleven this fall and is dieting,” 
laughed Tom. “Doesn’t eat anything at all — for him !” 

Jerry held quite a reception in the corridor of the 
Hall later. He and Tom arrived several minutes be- 
fore the dining room doors were opened and about 
every second fellow to enter claimed a handshake. 
Jerry was palpably surprised at the number of his ac- 
quaintances, and, perhaps, noting the seemingly genu- 
ine pleasure shown at his return, he recalled his first 
appearance at North Bank eight months before. Then 
half-concealed amusement had greeted him, and “Tar- 
heel” and “Towhead” had followed his progress 
around the yard. Supper was a very merry meal this 
evening, and afterwards Joe Kirkham accompanied the 
chums back to Baldwin. Tom led the way into the 
darkness of Number 7 and instantly there came from 
him an exclamation of anguish as he banged his shins 
against some unlooked for obstacle just inside the 
door. 

“Reckon it must be my trunk,” said Jerry apolo- 
getically. 

“That’s a fine place to leave it!” snorted Tom, feel- 
ing of his wounds. “Turn the light on, some one!” 
Jerry found the switch and as the room became sud- 
denly illumined the source of Tom’s annoyance stood 
revealed. It was a small cowhide covered trunk with 
a rounded lid held in place by a rope. It was not over 
two feet long nor more than sixteen inches high. The 
21 


KICK FORMATION 


remains of a brass lock adorned the front and there 
was a leather handle at each end. In places the hair 
still adhered to the hide, but for the most part, as Tom 
remarked subsequently, mange had done its worst ! 

Tom gazed at it a moment with open mouth and 
then sank into the nearest chair and gave way to riotous 
mirth. Joe observed the trunk amusedly; Jerry, with 
apparent pride. At last Tom recovered sufficiently to 
speak gaspingly. 

“Joke! Look!” He pointed weakly at the object 
on the floor. Joe nodded. 

“I see. What about it ?” he asked, grinning. “Quite 
a trunk, I’ll say !” 

“That — that’s Jerry’s ” But it was no use. It 

was many moments before he could continue. Then, 
with a supreme effort, he gurgled : “He told me — he’d 
bought — a wardrobe trunk! L-look at it! Oh, gee!” 


CHAPTER III 


ON THE RIVER 

J ERRY got to North Bank on Saturday and by 
Sunday he was well back in harness. Yet, be- 
cause tidewater Maryland and mountain North 
Carolina are very different, and because on Sunday 
there was so little to engage his mind, he was just 
a bit homesick. Tom found him very quiet that after- 
noon and voted him mighty poor company, and, never 
suspecting the reason, went off about three with Joe 
Kirkham, leaving Jerry alone in Number 7. From 
the window of the room Jerry could look down along 
the Severn and see boats and canoes slipping about in 
the afternoon sunlight. The day was very warm and 
only a light breeze came from the direction of the 
Chesapeake, a breeze that barely fluttered the cur- 
tains at the casement. Past the corner of the gym- 
nasium building, where a grove of trees made wel- 
come shade and a number of knife-scarred benches 
stood, a group of fellows were whiling away the time. 
One of the boys had a banjo, and he was doing his 
best to render the popular air of the moment, but with 
scant success. Over in the library on the first floor 
of Founders’ Hall the windows were wide open and 

23 


KICK FORMATION 


at one of them a “hound” was poring over a sober- 
looking volume, taking copious notes the while. 
[“Hound” was the school name for one who studied 
much yet still retained normal characteristics. A “dry” 
was one who carried the search for knowledge beyond 
the limits of reason and to the exclusion of all other 
interests. Drys were found only infrequently at North 
Bank.] 

The sight of the studious youth reminded Jerry 
that it would not be amiss to have a look at his books, 
and so he collected a pile of them and took them back 
to the window seat. But his mind refused to interest 
itself in Latin or mathematics or anything else rep- 
resented by the volumes beside him, and, in spite of 
his efforts, his thoughts flew back to Huckinsburg 
and Pap and the little white house under the shadow 
of the hogback, and he found himself getting bluer 
and bluer. To make matters worse, the boy with the 
banjo was strumming an accompaniment rather 
sketchily and another youth with a fairly good tenor 
voice was singing a sad, wailing melody the words of 
which reached Jerry plainly : 

I got a little piece o’ land, 

I got a cabin on it; 

My Mandy dresses stylish and 
She wears a sky-blue bonnet. 

Or Marster's mighty kind to me, 

Or Mistress she is kinder, 

But I’m a-pinin’ just to be 
Back home in Carolinar. 

24 


ON THE RIVER 


Jerry pushed the books aside, seized his old straw 
hat and closed the door of Number 7 resolutely behind 
him. He didn’t join the group under the trees, al- 
though he knew most of them, but followed the circling 
road past Follen and Ellicot and cut across the grass 
toward the river bank. Tom and Joe had gone out 
in Joe’s sailing canoe, and he had some thought of 
finding them within hailing distance of the float. But 
when he reached it the craft he sought was not in sight. 

Nor was there any one within sight that he did 
know, and he was on the point of retracing his steps 
when the open door of the boathouse met his gaze. 
The twilit building, like the float outside, was deserted. 
Jerry had never been in there before. On the farther 
side, one above the other, were the three slender eight- 
oar shells, their varnished hulls glowing softly in the 
half-light. Near by were several pair-oars and tubs. 
But most of the racks held canoes of various colors, 
although many places were vacant this afternoon. 
There was a number over each space and, usually, a 
card giving the owner’s name. By chance the second 
card that Jerry read bore the inscription “W. C. 
Conger,” and Billy’s canary-yellow canoe was in place, 
paddles over the thwarts. Billy had more than once in 
the spring offered Jerry the use of the craft, and Jerry 
had never taken advantage of the offer. As a matter 
of fact, Jerry knew little about canoes and only once 
had set foot in one. Then Tom and Wayne Sortwell 
had paddled him up the river and he had sat very still 
in the middle and wondered what would happen if the 
25 


KICK FORMATION 


wobbly thing overturned ! Jerry was a poor swimmer 
and the canoe had been a long way from the shore. 
Yesterday the idea of embarking alone in one of the 
frail contraptions would have given him the creeps. 
To-day, for some reason, he considered it quite seri- 
ously, finding a certain exhilarating thrill in contem- 
plating the attendant dangers. He even lifted one end 
of the canoe tentatively, wondering whether he could 
get it into the water unassisted. But I don’t think he 
would have gone any farther than that if Hal Mans- 
field had not appeared at the very moment he was 
setting the end of the canoe down again on the rack. 

“Hello, Benson,” said the football captain. “Going 
out ? Here, I’ll help you and you can give me a hand 
with mine.” 

“I was just pondering,” answered Jerry. “Maybe 
Billy Conger might want it himself to-day. I reckon 
I won’t risk it.” 

“Billy’s on the river already,” replied Mansfield. 
“He and Topham went out half an hour ago. So you 
needn’t worry about his wanting it. Take hold.” 

There didn’t seem to be any excuse left, at least 
none that Jerry could think of in the instant, and a 
moment later he was dropping his end of the craft 
into the water at the end of the float. Mansfield set 
the other end on the boards and then they went back 
and brought out a crimson canoe with a resplendent 
“H. M.” in monogram on the bow. Jerry was very 
solicitous about the other boy and held the crimson 
craft steady until he was settled, paddle in hands. He 
26 


ON THE RIVER 


preferred to let Mansfield get away from the float be- 
fore he tried his fortunes. 

“Thanks,” said Mansfield. “Which way are you 
going? Want to try a little race?” 

Jerry shook his head. “No, I reckon HI just row 
around a bit. Paddle, I mean. I — I ain’t much of a 
paddler.” 

Hal Mansfield laughed as he dipped his blade and 
shot the crimson canoe away. “That listens well, Ben- 
son, but HI bet you’re a shark at it. Bye !” 

Jerry waited until the other was well away, pre- 
tending to be vastly interested in his progress, before 
he lifted his own craft into the water and, mooring it 
with one foot, climbed gingerly into the stern seat. 
The thing rocked alarmingly and Jerry had a feeling 
of being dangerously high above the water. He dipped 
his paddle experimentally and the canoe slipped easily 
forward. Certainly, he reflected, paddling didn’t re- 
quire much effort. He had merely to touch the water 
and the craft fairly ran away! Unfortunately, 
though, it didn’t run straight. He had meant to go 
upstream, and instead of that he found that he was 
going down! So he lifted his paddle out and took 
two or three strokes on the other side. That had the 
required effect, but the water ran down the paddle and 
into one sleeve. He knew that it was possible to 
paddle over one side and yet keep the canoe on its 
course, but he didn’t know the trick of it. So, affecting 
a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he began a 
lazy, desultory progress up the river, fancying that 
27 


KICK FORMATION 


the occupants of the several canoes and skiffs within 
sight were watching him derisively. The bow was 
too far out of the water, and what breeze there was 
caught it now and then and whisked it around toward 
the bank, and Jerry recalled, too late, the fact that Hal 
Mansfield had seated himself in the middle of his 
canoe instead of in the stern. However, he wouldn’t 
have attempted to crawl forward in the uncertain 
thing for a thousand dollars, and so he made the best 
of the conditions and pretended that he wouldn’t have 
had them any different. One thing he did do, though, 
was hug the shore. In case of shipwreck he meant to 
be where he could almost if not actually walk to land ! 

After a few minutes he made the discovery that 
paddling affected the muscles more than he had sus- 
pected, that his position was awkward and confining 
and that it was a great relief to change over occasion- 
ally, as was necessary if he was to follow the margin 
of the stream and not merely describe a circle. By 
that time the water had penetrated as far as his elbow, 
inside his shirt sleeve, and while it felt refreshingly 
cool on such a warm day it also gave him a somewhat 
bedraggled feeling. Remaining close to the high bank 
of the river shut him off considerably from what 
breeze there was and it wasn’t long before he was in a 
fine perspiration and had begun to wonder whether 
canoeing was considered an exhilarating sport ! 

Nevertheless, having worked his way a good half 
mile above the school and around the first turn, he felt 
a not unnatural pride of accomplishment and a con- 
28 


ON THE RIVER 


sequent contempt for danger. And so, having paused 
for a moment to rest his back — for that suffered more 
than his arms from the novel exercise — he watched the 
bow of the canoe drift away from the shore while a 
bold resolve formed itself in his mind. That resolve 
was to venture into midstream and, since the current 
was setting toward the mouth of the river, float 
placidly back to the school without exertion. It was 
quite evident to him by now that a canoe was a reason- 
able contrivance; that if you didn't move about in it, 
it would behave itself and bear you around in safety. 
He viewed the borrowed craft almost affectionately 
and even wondered how much one like it would cost. 
Then, his back having stopped aching, he dipped his 
paddle again and propelled the canoe straight away 
from shore. He experienced a moment's uneasiness 
as he watched the river bank recede, but, the die once 
cast, he put fear behind him. Upstream a way a sail- 
ing canoe was tacking toward the further shore, and 
he was almost certain that it held Tom and Joe, and 
he hoped that they would overtake him before he 
reached the school landing and see what a skilled and 
intrepid mariner he was. 

Near the middle of the river he straightened the 
canoe out and laid the paddle across his knees. His 
progress was much slower than he had expected it 
to be. In fact, for awhile he wasn’t certain that he 
was moving at all. Presently, though, by dint of 
keeping his eyes for several minutes on a tall tree 
across the water, he was able to persuade himself that 
29 


KICK FORMATION 


he was making headway. A cautious look over his 
shoulder showed him the sailing canoe headed toward 
him from the shadowed water of the southern shore, 
although still a good half mile away. There was no 
other craft in sight above him, for the afternoon was 
fast waning. Now and then he dipped his blade to 
straighten the bow out, but otherwise he let the current 
do the work while he watched the white tower of 
Founders’ Hall come into sight around the wooded 
bank below. Several canoes and skiffs were paddling 
homeward toward the float, gayly-hued dots on the 
gleaming river. 

When five minutes had passed he turned for an- 
other look at the sailing canoe behind him. He couldn’t 
see it over his left shoulder and he turned his head 
the other way. He couldn’t find it then, either! He 
searched the farther bank for sight of the little creamy- 
white sail and searched the glinting surface of the 
stream beyond the bend. That canoe had just simply 
vanished ! Or so, at least, he thought for a long min- 
ute. Then, in the act of withdrawing his gaze, his 
eyes encountered a blur on the water no more than a 
quarter of a mile back. At first he thought that the 
occupants of the missing craft had lowered the sail and 
stepped the mast, for all he could make out was a 
grayish something lying uncertainly on the gleaming 
surface of the water. It was a long moment before 
the truth came to* him and he realized that what he 
saw was the bottom of the canoe and not the side, 
and then there was an appreciable instant ere he acted. 

30 


ON THE RIVER 


From the direction of the landing no craft had headed 
upstream. Probably at that distance the sunlight on 
wavelets and ripples so blurred the vision that none 
saw what had happened. Even as he sensed this, Jerry, 
seizing the paddle, brought the yellow canoe around 
with a few hard, quick strokes that made it rock peri- 
lously. For once, though, he had no thought for 
danger. Paddling first on one side and then on the 
other, he drove the canoe forward with powerful 
sweeps, the high bow swinging to right and left, the 
craft rolling sidewise at each propulsion in a manner 
that at another time would have brought Jerry’s heart 
into his mouth ! 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BOY IN THE GRAY CANOE 

H E frequently wondered afterwards how he 
ever reached the capsized canoe, why his own 
craft didn’t turn over and drop him into the 
water, as it threatened to do fifty times during that 
race! A special Providence must have watched over 
him, for he took some wild chances, quite forgetting 
his former nervousness and all he knew of the eccen- 
tricities of canoes. Often he got off his course, and 
doubtless he wasted much effort in the course of his 
unskilled exertions, but he reached his goal in short 
time nevertheless. As he drew near he discovered to 
his surprise that the overturned craft had not held 
Tom and Joe Kirkham, that, in fact, but one youth 
clung to the keel and that he was a total stranger. 

“Much obliged,” called the latter as the yellow canoe 
swept alongside. “Think you can tow me and the 
canoe too?” The shipwrecked mariner seemed vastly 
unconcerned and Jerry felt that the bottom of the 
situation had sort of fallen out, so to speak ; that what 
had had the appearance of a gallant rescue had 
dwindled flatly to a merely casual act of courtesy! 
32 


THE BOY IN THE GRAY CANOE 


He stopped paddling as his craft threatened to stave 
in the other and backed water, suddenly again very 
conscious of the uncertainties of canoeing. 

“I reckon so,” he answered. “You ain’t a North 
Bank feller, are you ?” 

“No.” Jerry thought the brief disclaimer sounded 
a bit emphatic, so emphatic as to be almost dis- 
courteous. “No, I live over there in the house with 
the red roof.” The boy in the water nodded a drip- 
ping head toward the south bank of the river where 
a frame bungalow peered from behind a screen of 
trees. “My name’s Ingraham. You’re one of the 
school fellows, I suppose.” 

“Yes,” Jerry agreed. “Can you get in here without 
upsetting us ?” 

“I could, but I’m not going to. The bow’s too high 
out and I weigh about a ton with all these wet clothes. 
Generally I just wear my bathing suit, but to-day I 
didn’t. Wait until I find the sheet and I’ll hold it 
and you can paddle across to shore. I reckon the pesky 
thing’ll tow all right after we get started.” 

He suddenly disappeared from sight, rather to 
Jerry’s surprise, and was gone a long moment. When 
he reappeared, sputtering, he had the end of a small 
rope in one hand, and with it he swam around to the 
stern of the yellow canoe. “All right,” he panted, 
taking hold of the gunwale. “Start her easy. She’ll 
pull hard at first.” 

“Reckon you can hold on there till I get to the 
shore?” asked Jerry doubtfully. 

33 


KICK FORMATION 


“Sure. Don’t you worry about me. You’ll have 
all you can do to paddle.” 

Jerry found that that was true enough, especially at 
first, for the overturned canoe, with its unfurled sail 
thrusting down into the water, was a dead weight 
astern. Jerry saw Ingraham’s fingers whiten on the 
edge of the canoe as the pull came and heard a pro- 
testing grunt from that youth. But he held on, and 
just when it seemed that Jerry’s thrusts of the paddle 
were to yield no result, and just when the strain on 
the arms of the boy in the water had become intoler- 
able, the craft behind moved sluggishly forward. 
After that progress was not so difficult and the strange 
tow headed toward a narrow sandy beach on the shad- 
owed side of the stream. After a minute Ingraham 
spoke again. 

“Say, if you’ll paddle on one side you’ll get along 
faster,” he remarked critically. “You’re digging me 
in the ribs every time you shift over here.” 

“Got to keep her running straight,” answered Jerry 
briefly. 

“Oh! Don’t you know how to paddle?” 

“Not much.” 

“You’d better keep out of canoes, then, I’d say!” 

“I’m surely going to after this. Reckon a canoe’s a 
good thing to keep away from if you don’t know how 
to paddle it or sail it !” 

“That a crack at me? Well, I know how to sail 
a canoe all right. Trouble was I lost the sheet and 
leaned out for it and the crazy thing turned right 
34 


THE BOY IN THE GRAY CANOE 


over. But I surely wouldn't be messing around this 
river in one of them if I couldn't paddle." 

“Reckon it was sort of lucky for you I was messing 
around, though," returned Jerry quietly. 

“How's that?" 

“Well, you was needing help, I'd say, about the 
time I arrove !" 

“Oh, shucks, I was all right. I'd have drifted to 
shore after a while. Why, I've been spilled out a 
dozen times around here! Last time was down off 
the Academy and a couple of sailors from the Reina 
Mercedes picked me up. Canoes are mighty cranky 
things. Of course, I don't mean that I’d have pre- 
ferred to stay in the water, because it might have 
been a couple of hours before I got ashore, and I'm 
much obliged to you, but there wasn't any danger.” 

“You're welcome," said Jerry dryly. “You live 
yonder?" 

“Yes. We've been there all summer. I'm dying to 
get back home, but my folks want to stay until No- 
vember some time." 

“Don’t you have to go to school?" 

“I reckon I've had all the schooling I'm likely to 
get," chuckled the other. “Mother's sort of an invalid 
and we travel around a good deal and so there isn't 
much chance. I went to a school in Florida part of 
last winter. Didn’t learn anything, though. Mother 
wanted me to go over yonder to your school this fall 
while we were here, but going to a place for a little 
while that way doesn't get you anything, and that's 

35 


KICK FORMATION 


what I told her. You don’t need to go much closer. 
I can wade in from here.” 

Jerry, however, kept on until the yellow canoe nosed 
up on the sand. Then: “If you’ll pull her up a little 
I’ll get out and help you turn your canoe over.” 

“Oh, rot! Let her stay. I’ll get our darkey to 
help me to-morrow. Say, what’s your name?” 

“Benson. I’d be pleased to help you if you’d like 
I should.” 

“No, let the old thing stay as it is. I’ll tie this rope 
so she can’t get away. Well, much obliged to you, 
Benson. I say, come along up to the house and meet 
my folks. I’ll make out you saved my life and you’ll 
have a swell time, Benson.” 

Ingraham grinned mockingly. Jerry had his first 
real look at him then as he stepped out on the little 
white beach, and he wasn’t altogether favorably im- 
pressed with what he saw. Ingraham was fairly tall 
and well filled out, but he didn’t appear very healthy, 
in spite of his tanned skin. Jerry guessed that the 
muscles beneath it were rather flabby. He had rather 
nice eyes that were almost as dark as his black hair, 
but his expression was somewhat arrogant and his 
smile seemed to hold a sneer. In age he might have 
been fifteen or sixteen; surely no older. 

Jerry shook his head in response to the invitation. 
“Much obliged,” he answered, “but I’ve got to be get- 
ting back. Reckon it’s right late. If I was you I’d 
get into some dry clothes. You might catch cold 
standing around like that.” 

36 


THE BOY IN THE GRAY CANOE 


“Oh, that's all right. I’m used to getting soaked. 
Well, thanks for pulling me ashore, Benson. See you 
again some time, maybe.” 

“Likely so,” replied Jerry, doubting it nevertheless. 
“Evening.” 

He pushed the yellow canoe off and turned it unskill- 
fully, quite certain that Ingraham was viewing his 
efforts with that disdainful smile of his, and then set 
off across the river. Once, when he had paddled some 
distance, he looked back. From where he was the 
green-and-red bungalow high up on the bluff showed 
plainly in the slanting sunlight and he thought that 
a figure on the veranda waved to him. But he wasn't 
certain, and as waving back would be skittish business 
he went on again. The river was empty now above 
the distant bridge, a broad ribbon of amber flecked 
with gold and bordered along the shadowed margin 
with steely gray. Ahead, the old brick Hall glowed 
mellowly in the sunlight and the squat yet graceful 
cupola was poised whitely against the clear sky. A 
single skiff was nosing to the float, but long before 
Jerry arrived it had been housed and its occupants 
had gone up the hill. He brought the yellow canoe 
alongside in quite a shipshape style and laid his paddle 
on the float. Then, very circumspectly, he crawled 
out. 

Now, getting a canoe out of the water unassisted is 
no simple matter, as Jerry speedily determined. Had 
he lifted the bow over the edge of the float and then 
pulled the craft forward and out by gunwale or 
37 


KICK FORMATION 


thwarts he would have done well enough, although 
such treatment isn’t especially beneficial to varnish. 
Instead of that method, however, he elected to lift it 
up bodily by the middle thwart. Leaning over the 
edge of the float, he took a firm grip and heaved. A 
wet canoe weighs more than Jerry calculated it would. 
It came up perhaps a foot, but then it went down again, 
and Jerry went with it. His feet slipped out behind 
him on the wet planks and he plunged forward, his 
head and shoulders disappearing into the canoe. The 
canoe rolled frantically and sidled away from the float, 
and Jerry accompanied it. Then it rolled the other 
way and Jerry was dumped unceremoniously into the 
river! 

He found himself standing upright between float 
and canoe in some four feet of water, clutching very 
desperately at the former. He felt exceedingly sur- 
prised and extremely ridiculous for a moment. Then 
relief at the discovery that he was in no danger of 
drowning and amusement at the escapade took pos- 
session of him and, pulling the obstreperous canoe 
with him, he climbed out on the float, dripping and 
chuckling. To have braved the perils of deep water 
for nearly an hour, and dashed headlong to the rescue 
of Ingraham without misadventure, only to be ship- 
wrecked on dry land, in a way of speaking, struck him 
as very, very funny, and he had his laugh out before 
he made a new study of the situation and pulled the 
canoe out bow-first and at length stowed it safely away 
in its place. 


38 


THE BOY IN THE GRAY CANOE 


Of course luck would have it that Tom was awaiting 
him in Number 7 when he got there. Jerry gave a 
strictly truthful account of his ducking, but he omitted 
all mention of the incident of the capsized canoe. Tom 
enjoyed a fine laugh, and then quickly sobering, de- 
manded: “Look here, Jeremiah! Didn’t you tell me 
once you couldn’t swim much?” Jerry nodded sheep- 
ishly. 

“I thought you did! Are you plumb crazy? You 
keep away from canoes and boats till you learn how. 
You hear me? Suppose you’d turned over out there 
in the middle! Why, you’d have drowned!” 

“Reckon I might have clung on to the canoe till 
some one came and got me,” ventured Jerry mildly. 

Tom snorted contemptuously. “You’d have gone 
straight down, you silly chump, and when you came 
up the canoe would have been yards away from you. 
Besides, it’s no easy matter to hold on to an overturned 
canoe, let me tell you. If you’d ever tried it you’d 
know.” 

“I’ve seen it done,” said Jerry. 


CHAPTER V 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 

O N Monday Jerry made his first appearance in 
classes and was relieved to find that what little 
preparation he had had time for the previous 
evening was sufficient to get him by. Mr. Logan, 
the mathematics instructor, was inclined to be sarcastic 
regarding Jerry’s absence on Friday. “I trust, Ben- 
son,” he said, “that you were able to get your affairs 
in shape before hurrying away from home. It would 
be a real sorrow to me to think that you had neglected 
your interests in order to make my life a little brighter 
by your presence here.” But nobody minded Mr. 
Logan much, and Jerry just looked respectful and kept 
silent, and the instructor mumbled into silence at last. 
As a matter of truth, Mr. Logan had a very good 
opinion of Jerry, and the diatribe was quite without 
malice. 

In the afternoon Jerry and Tom went across to the 
gridiron to watch football practice. Tom was not an 
enthusiast where football was concerned. He held 
that baseball was the only game really worth playing, 
and he felt, or pretended to feel, profound contempt 
40 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 


for Joe and Tub Keller and several other members 
of the nine who transferred their allegiance in the fall 
to the gridiron sport. And he had a real grievance, 
too, against those renegades, for football took them 
away from fall baseball practice, and Tom, being cap- 
tain of the nine this year, was more than ever anxious 
for success on the diamond. Something of this he set 
forth for Jerry's information as they perched them- 
selves on the seats and viewed the throng of candidates 
assembled about the benches. 

“That's something that makes me tired, too," said 
Tom disgruntledly. “Half the school will come out 
for football, while, in the spring, we’re lucky if we get 
forty candidates for the nine without literally comb- 
ing the houses. I can't see what fellows find in foot- 
ball!" 

“I ain't ever seen a game of it yet," said Jerry. * 
“When do they play it, Tom?" 

“There's a game next Saturday with Bayside," an- 
swered the other indifferently. “You can see that, if 
you like, as I guess we won't practice Saturdays. 
Don't see why we shouldn't, though," he added. “It's 
just a kind of a custom not to. If I had my way we'd 
play outside games on Saturdays in the fall just as 
we do in the spring. We could play baseball here 
right into November." The approach of Perry 
Naughton, a first class youth who held the position 
of manager of the football team, took Tom's thoughts 
momentarily from his troubles. “Oh, Perry!" he called. 
“Is Mr. Thome coming to-day?" 

41 


KICK FORMATION 


“Yes, he ought to be here now. Hello, Benson! 
Say, why don't you come out? If you could kick a 
football the way you can hit a baseball you'd be mighty 
useful !" 

“Shy on kickers, are we?" asked Tom. 

Naughton shrugged. “Looks so. We've got Tub 
and Jim Duveen, but we'll miss Tracy Howe a heap, 
I reckon. Ever play football, Benson?" 

“No, I never," said Jerry. “I ain’t ever seen it 
played, either." 

“Honest? Gosh, with those long legs of yours you 
ought to be able to kick like a mule !" 

“Jerry's got too much sense to waste his time that 
way," said Tom. “That's a fine-looking bunch of stars 
you've got here, Perry." He indicated the waiting 
candidates with a nod, and, while his tone was dis- 
paraging, there was a tinge of envy in it. Naughton 
shrugged again. 

“Some of them are good," he answered. “A lot 
more are here just because they haven’t anything better 
to do. Next week there’ll be about half of them miss- 
ing. There comes Mr. Thorne." 

Perry Naughton hurried away. Jerry, following his 
progress along the front of the stand, saw him meet 
and shake hands with a man in knickerbockers who, 
seen at that distance, looked dimly familiar. But Cap- 
tain Mansfield and a handful of the old players had 
already gathered about the coach and Jerry's view was 
cut off. Tom was bandying words with Rodney 
Keller — popularly known as “Tub" — who, arrayed in 
42 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 


faded khaki breeches and an equally faded and much 
mended jersey, had wandered their way. 

“How’s the kicking leg, Tub?” asked Tom. 

“Oh, good for a few more swings, I reckon. I 
haven’t kicked a ball all summer, though. Thought 
you were getting busy on the old diamond to-day, 
Cap?” 

“Wednesday, if any one shows up. With most of 
the gang playing football I don’t look for a crowd, 
though. Seen Mr. Thome yet?” 

“No, has he come?” 

“He’s down there now.” 

Tub looked and nodded, but didn’t offer to join 
the reception at the end of the stand. Instead, he 
viewed Jerry thoughtfully for a moment and then 
asked: “Aren’t you trying football, Jerry?” 

Before Jerry could reply Tom broke in exasper- 
atedly. “For the love of Mike, Tub, let him alone!” 
he said. “Can’t you leave me one ball player? Gee, 
you fellows make me sick! You’ve got about every 
able-bodied chap in school already, and you’re trying 
to steal Jerry from me! He doesn’t know a football 
from a — from a baked apple. And he doesn’t want 
to!” 

“All right ! Retain your nether garment, old dear,” 
replied Tub flippantly. “It’s nothing in my sad ex- 
istence, only it struck me that Jerry might make a 
football player. Well, I reckon I’ll mosey along.” 

“Anybody would think football was the only thing 
43 


KICK FORMATION 


worth doing,” grumbled Tom as Tub went off. 
“There’s the coach, Jerry, coming along with Hal.” 

“Why, that’s — that’s the feller on the train!” ex- 
claimed Jerry in surprise. 

“On what train?” asked Tom. Jerry explained and 
Tom nodded. 

“Yes, he’s really a pretty good scout, I guess. Too 
bad he isn’t more popular. Looks as if he was here 
for business to-day, doesn’t he?” 

Jerry agreed that he did. The football coach wore 
an old Norfolk suit of brown tweed, with golf stock- 
ings, a pair of scuffed low shoes, a negligee shirt and 
a rusty Panama hat. As the practice progressed he 
shed, first, the hat, and then his jacket, and, finally, his 
tie, and ended with up-rolled sleeves and bare throat. 
By that time he and every one else on the field was in a 
fine state of perspiration, for the afternoon was hot 
and there was little air stirring. Tom wanted to quit 
long before the practice was over, but Jerry persuaded 
him to stay. Jerry was learning something, and when 
he was learning he was hard to budge. Tom, although 
no football enthusiast, knew enough of the game to 
answer Jerry’s numerous questions intelligently, and 
Jerry managed to obtain a fair idea of what the strange 
proceedings meant. He was particularly interested in 
watching Coach Thorne and he noted that whenever 
the coach visited one of the numerous squads sprinkled 
over the gridiron, said squad immediately displayed 
accelerated activity. Considering the temperature, 
Jerry considered that Mr. Thorne was surprisingly 
44 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 


successful in making the candidates work. He felt a 
sort of proprietary interest in the broad-shouldered, 
keen-eyed coach that already approached admiration, 
and when Tom remarked: “He's working them too 
hard for a day like this. It's that sort of thing that 
puts fellows against him." Jerry sprang to his de- 
fense. 

“Seems like if he’s boss he’d ought to have the say," 
he answered. “Reckon he knows what’s good for 
those fellers and what ain’t, don’t he ?’’ 

“Oh, I’m not saying he’s hurting them any, but he 
ought to realize that he isn’t any too well liked and 
try to jolly ’em along a bit. He’s giving them too stiff 
a dose for a starter, and they’ll remember it and hold 
it against him." 

“It don’t sound right to me," objected Jerry. “Seems 
like if the fellows want to win they’d do most any- 
thing reasonable." 

Tom chuckled. “The question is, though, what’s 
reasonable? Come on, they’re all through. There 
won’t be any scrimmage to-day." 

On Wednesday baseball practice began. Of last 
year’s team but six fellows appeared, most of them 
former substitutes. Tom viewed what he sarcastically 
called “the outpouring" with a gloomy eye. In all twen- 
ty-one candidates appeared, of whom more than half 
were plainly not “varsity" material. Jerry and George 
McGee assisted with the coaching, although neither 
had ever attempted instruction before. Very little was 
accomplished that first afternoon, and Tom was ex- 
45 


KICK FORMATION 


tremely pessimistic all the evening, although Joe Kirk- 
ham, who dropped into Baldwin House after supper, 
did his best to cheer him up. 

“It's always that way in the fall, Tom,” declared 
Joe. “Look at last year. There weren’t enough fel- 
lows out to make two nines, and Pop had to go around 
and beg fellows to come out!” 

“I shan’t,” grumbled Tom. “You won’t catch me 
doing any begging. I’ll make a team out of what I’ve 
got, or bust !” 

“Atta boy! Besides, I don’t believe there’s an awful 
lot in fall practice, anyway.” That led to a lengthy 
and heated argument between the two during which 
Jerry quietly drew a Latin book to him and did some 
studying. In the end Joe retired from the controversy 
defeated but unconvinced, and Tom appeared slightly 
more cheerful. Joe, seeking a change of subject, 
turned to Jerry. 

“Been out to the Cabin yet, Jerry?” he asked. 

Jerry slipped a pencil between the pages of his book 
and shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I reckon I’ll 
have to wait till Saturday.” 

“Hope no one’s broken in there,” said Joe. “Going 
to have any more parties?” 

“I reckon so, after things get to running. Maybe 
I’ll invite you and Tom to supper Sunday evening if I 
find everything all right Saturday.” 

“Wish you would.” Joe smacked his lips. “That 
was some feed we had there that time last spring! 
Remember that supper, Tom?” 

46 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 


“I guess I do ! I’ve never had any ham since then ; 
it's always been a base imitation !” 

“And those eggs!” sighed Joe. “And them coffee!” 

Jerry laughed. “You’re just projeckin’ for an invi- 
tation, I reckon.” 

“I sure am! Let’s go out in the afternoon and 
have a good lazy time. I’ll contribute to the grub 
fund.” 

“It’s sort of a long walk,” demurred Tom. “Let’s 
wait till the weather’s cooler.” 

“Oh, you !” jeered Joe. “You’d walk twice that far 
on a ball field and never think anything of it. Tell 
you what I’ll do for you, Tom. You walk the first 
half of the way and I’ll walk the other half !” 

“I’d rather walk the second half, thanks, so I’d be 
there ! All right, I’m game. How much do you want 
for feed, Jerry?” 

“Reckon a quarter from each of you’ll be enough. 
I left some stuff out there, like sugar and coffee, and 
if no one ain’t bust in it’s still there. I’ll get some 
ham and a half dozen eggs. Want anything else?” 

“Get a pie from the baker Saturday morning,” sug- 
gested Joe. “A meal isn’t a meal without pie.” 

“Then you-all throw in thirty cents instead of a 
quarter,” responded Jerry. “Pies cost money these 
days.” 

“Well, they’re worth it. Here you are, son; twenty- 
five and five is most usually thirty. That nickel looks 
queer, but I reckon it’s all right. I took it, anyway.” 

47 


KICK FORMATION 


“It don’t look very good to me,” said Jerry dubi- 
ously. “Where’s yours, Tom?” 

“Don’t know if I’ve got it. Yes, I have. Here’s 
thirty-five. You can credit me with the other nickel 
toward the next time.” 

“I don’t keep any books,” responded Jerry. “Here’s 
your change.” 

“Gee, I don’t want that bum nickel! Looks like it 
was lead!” 

“It’s perfectly good,” laughed Joe. “I’ve had it 
a long time, and I ought to know.” 

“You had it because you couldn’t get rid of it,” 
grumbled Tom as he thrust it into his pocket. “I’ll 
have to make a trip to Annapolis and drop it in a slot 
machine !” 

“You can do it when we go over to play St. John’s. 

Say, Jerry, why don’t you Hey! What's the 

matter with you?" 

Joe suddenly found himself on the floor with Tom 
standing over him threateningly. 

“Listen,” proclaimed Tom. “If you don’t want to 
get thrown out the window and have that solid con- 
crete dome of yours cracked you’ll shut up about Jerry 
playing football! There’s going to be one member 
of the nine sticking to his job, and that’s Jerry Benson. 
Get that?” 

“All right ! I was just thinking ” 

“You aren’t required to think! Jerry doesn’t want 
to play football and he isn’t going to.” Tom pulled 
Joe to his feet and deposited him ungently back in the 
48 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 


chair. “He’s a gentleman, and plays a gentleman’s 
game. He’s too sensible to mix up with a lot of rough 
necks and rowdies !” 

Joe grinned as he adjusted his attire. “Just as you 
say, Thomas, but it seems to me there’s a lot of rough 
stuff outside the gridiron! If you try any more of 
that gentlemanly business with me I’ll be laid up for 
a week!” 

“I don’t reckon I could learn that game,” said Jerry 
gravely. “Looks like it takes a heap of studying.” 

“You couldn’t,” assented Tom emphatically. “You 
wouldn’t like it, anyway.” 

“Well, I don’t know. It looks right interesting.!’ 

Joe was smiling broadly and Tom aimed a kick at 
him which fell short. “You’ll have all you can attend 
to playing baseball, Jerry,” said Tom decisively. 
“Football’s a sport for low-brows and thugs like Joke 
here, fellows who haven’t mentality for scientific — er — 
endeavors.” 

Joe chuckled. “There’s more science in ten minutes 
of football than there is in two hours of baseball, 
Tom.” 

“Where do you get that stuff? Turn over, Joke! 
Of course, if you call butting you head into another 
fellow’s stomach ” 

The argument was fairly on, and Jerry, smiling de- 
murely, opened his book again. 

On Saturday Jerry witnessed his first football game 
and got extremely excited a number of times, to Tom’s 
real or pretended disgust. North Bank’s adversary 
49 


KICK FORMATION 


was Bayside School, and Bayside rather took the Light 
Blue by surprise. There was a hard-fought first half 
of two ten-minute periods during which neither side 
so much as threatened its opponent's goal line and 
during which, if the truth must be told, North Bank 
played some exceedingly ragged football. Tub Keller 
tried hard to get speed into his team mates, but he 
didn’t succeed; and there were those who declared 
that Tub put up a rather sorry individual game at 
quarter. North Bank’s punters kicked erratically and 
her ends continually overran. Her line put up a fairly 
stiff defense, but didn’t succeed in making much of 
a showing on attack. 

It was not until the fourth period was well under 
way that an intercepted forward pass by Ashley, the 
Light Blue’s right half, put North Bank suddenly and 
unexpectedly in possession of the pigskin on the ene- 
my’s thirty-two yards. Coach Thorne ran Don Sears 
in for Tub and Sears worked the old crisscross, with 
Ashley carrying the ball, for eight yards. Sears tried 
a quarter-back run that gained two more and won 
the distance, and then fumbled miserably. The fumble 
was recovered but cost four yards, and, with fourteen 
to go on the second down, Duveen faked a drop kick 
and tossed to Captain Mansfield straight over the cen- 
ter. Mansfield pulled the ball down safely and fought 
off the adversary until he reached the twelve yards. 
There Bayside held firmly during two plunges and 
Duveen dropped back to kicking position and Sears 
made a lot of ado about preparing for a placement, all 
50 


JERRY SEES HIS FIRST GAME 


of which should not have fooled Bayside but did never- 
theless. It was Omstead, at left half, who got the pass 
from “Fat” Norris and who skirted the left of the 
line, aided by good interference, and romped over for 
a touchdown. 

Omstead himself tried for goal and missed badly, 
and the game went on for another four or five minutes 
without further result, although when time was called 
North Bank was again working down to within strik- 
ing position. Even Tom displayed some enthusiasm 
when that touchdown was made, though he seemed to 
regret it afterwards, while Jerry, who now knew 
enough about the game to appreciate what was going 
on, whooped noisily. On the whole, North Bank was 
not very proud of the victory, and it was rumored 
about school that Coach Thorne had spoken most dis- 
paragingly to the team afterwards. Indeed, a grand 
shake-up was predicted for Monday, with Sears in 
Tub Keller’s place at quarter and many new faces in 
the line-up. But, to anticipate slightly, the shake-up 
didn’t materialize, Tub kept his position and new 
countenances were lacking. After all, a first contest 
is no criterion. 

Sunday afternoon Jerry, Tom and Joe set forth 
about half-past three along the dusty road that led 
past the school and, following the river more or less 
closely, eventually degenerated from a thoroughfare 
to a wagon trail. But their journey didn’t take them 
to that point, for, after walking leisurely along for a 
mile or so, a mile that was regularly punctuated by 
51 


KICK FORMATION 


Tom's protests and lamentations, they left the high- 
way and plunged into the woods. Here a faintly dis- 
cernible path led them by devious ways to a brook 
bridged by a tree trunk, and from there, more 
straightly, up a slight hill to a little clearing in which 
stood a ramshackle cabin of weathered boards. A 
big maple threw protecting branches over the roof and 
many birds sang about it in the afternoon sunlight, 
and Jerry, fitting a key to the padlock on the door, 
smiled with the pride of ownership. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE CABIN IN THE WOODS 

T HE Cabin was some two miles from school. 
During spring vacation, Jerry, who had re- 
mained at North Bank, had come across it one 
day when roaming the woods. You or I might not 
have thought it much of a find, but it had pleased Jerry 
mightily. No one knew its history, but Jerry had a 
theory to the effect that it had been put up some years 
before as a hunting cabin, a theory borne out by such 
evidences as empty shot-gun shells. He had found 
little inside; only a small cookstove of the sheet-iron 
variety, a wall cupboard made of a box and such other 
indications of previous occupancy as old newspapers 
and tin cans. But Jerry had toiled lovingly while 
recess lasted, and after that in his spare hours, and 
had made the old shack quite habitable. There was a 
bed there now in one corner, a rustic contrivance piled 
with evergreen boughs, a large table and a smaller 
one, a bench and several stools and, in the way of 
adornment, many colored pictures tacked to the walls. 
He had made, too, shutters for the empty windows and 
placed a hasp and padlock on the door, and the Cabin 
had become something of an institution at North Bank 
53 


KICK FORMATION 


during the balance of the school year. On Saturday 
nights Jerry had served suppers to parties of half a 
dozen, and they were suppers to remember, as Joe had 
recently testified. Ham and eggs and sweet potatoes, 
bread and coffee and pie had comprised the menu, and 
Jerry had himself done the cooking over a wood fire 
in the little decrepit stove. But, given a boy’s appetite 
following a two-mile trek, such simple viands can taste 
surprisingly good, and the fame of the Cabin had 
spread and Jerry had never had an open date while 
school lasted. As a money-making proposition the 
Cabin had not proved a great success, but Jerry had 
enjoyed it all ; most of all the sinking of the season’s 
scanty profits in a banquet to the school nine after its 
defeat of its old rival, Cumbridge, in the last contest 
of the year. 

Yesterday he had made a hurried trip out there, 
well laden with provisions, and found, to his vast re- 
lief, that none had molested his domicile ; his, at least, 
by right of discovery and possession. And to-day 
when he threw the door creakingly inward Tom and 
Joe found everything just as they recalled it. Beside 
the stove a box was piled high with wood, the banquet 
table, of maple saplings and box covers, held the tin 
plates and cups in neat piles and the small table and 
the cupboard displayed a heartening array of edibles. 
Save that the bed needed replenishing with fresh 
evergreen boughs, the Cabin was ready for its new 
season. 

“Gee, it’s swell!” sighed Joe. “Makes a fellow 

54 


THE CABIN IN THE WOODS 


hungry just to get here! What have you got in the 
big bundle, Jerry?” 

“Bread and a raisin pie and some coffee.” 

“Raisin!” exclaimed Joe ecstatically. “Leave me at 
it, boy!” 

Tom, who had subsided on a bench, viewed him dis- 
gustedly. “Always thinking of your tummy,” he said. 
“Didn’t you have any dinner?” 

“Sure, but that was three hours ago. Want me to 
start the fire, Jerry?” 

“No, sir, not just yet. Let’s cut some pine boughs 
for the bed first.” 

Joe groaned. “Got to work for my supper, eh? 
That’s always the way!” 

Nevertheless, he toiled as diligently as either of the 
others. They had to go some little distance to find 
evergreen trees, and, since Jerry wanted only the 
smaller branches, it was more than half an hour later 
when they got back to the Cabin, and Joe again 
broached the subject of supper, and was again sat on. 
Tom declared that it was much too warm to think of 
fires and cooking yet, and went outside again, after 
the bed had been “made,” and settled down on a leafy 
bank in the shade of the hut. Joe disconsolately joined 
him while Jerry made tentative preparations for the 
evening meal. When Jerry sought them Tom was 
peacefully asleep, his clasped hands under his head, 
and Joe was on the borderland. The latter cocked one 
eye open at Jerry’s appearance and waved a hand 
weakly. 


55 


KICK FORMATION 


“Exhausted from want of food,” he murmured. 
Whereupon Tom awoke suddenly and, possibly 
wishing to convey the impression that he had not 
slumbered, remarked brightly: “Nice and quiet here, 
isn’t it?” 

“It is now,” responded Joe, “since you’ve woke up 
and stopped snoring!” 

“I don’t snore,” said Tom with dignity. “Ask Jerry. 
Besides, I wasn’t really asleep ; I — er — was just think- 

• jf 

m g. 

“You ought to close your mouth when you think. 
That will give other folks a chance. Say, Jerry, that 
reminds me. Your friend Jordan asked me yesterday 
if I thought you’d let him have the Cabin some eve- 
ning. Near as I could make out, he wants to bring 
some pals out here and have a party : cook their own 
supper and so on. I told him he’d better talk to you 
about it.” 

Tom chuckled. “Jordan’s scared to ask Jerry. 
They aren’t friends. It was Jordan, you remember, 
who tried to haze him last winter.” 

“I ain’t holding it against him,” remarked Jerry. 
“Just the same, I don’t want to let any one come out 
here and use the place like that. If he says anything 
more about it, Joke, you tell him I said I ain't doing 
that way.” 

“All right. I shan’t mind telling him a bit. I 
don’t like him.” 

“Oh, he’s all right, I guess,” said Tom carelessly. 
“Just a bit stuck on himself.” 

56 


THE CABIN IN THE WOODS 


“No, he isn't. No fellow can be all right with a 
name like his.” 

“What name's he got?” asked Jerry. 

“Purves, Purves Jordan.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” Tom inquired. 

“I don’t know, but something is. It don’t sound 
sensible. Sounds like a disease or something!” 

The others chuckled. “Isn’t he playing football?” 
asked Tom. 

“Yes, and he isn't so bad, either. He’s trying for 
half back. Of course, as he and Hal room together 
and all that, he's likely to get a whack at it before 
the season’s over. Not that Hal is the sort to show 
favoritism, but naturally if your chum can play at all 
you're going to push him a bit. Well, it's nothing in 
my sad existence.” 

“It would be if you were a half back instead of half 
a tackle,” chuckled Tom. 

“Where do you get that ‘half a tackle' stuff?” de- 
manded Joe indignantly. “I’m a tackle and a half. 
And I don’t mind confiding to you, Thomas, that yes- 
terday I played left tackle all the time and left end 
about half the time, for our friend Butterfield was in 
a trance all through the first half. Honest, he acted 
like a dummy!” 

“He was certainly mighty poor on punts,” said 
Tom. “I noticed that if Duveen punted to one side 
of the field Butterfield was generally on the other.” 

“Sure ! He let the opposing end run him out every 
time. If he did get under the ball he always overran. 

57 


KICK FORMATION 


Of course, Fm not saying that Duveen’s punts were 
very good, for they weren’t, but just the same an end 
that knew his business could have judged them a heap 
better than Lon Butterfield did yesterday. Reckon 
I’ll stop knocking, though. Maybe I’ll be in his shoes 
next Saturday.” 

“Was Thorne peeved with the way you chaps 
played?” asked Tom. 

“If he was he disguised the fact. After all, Tom, 
we didn’t do so badly for a first game. Remember 
we haven’t many of the old men left this fall, and 
we’d only had one week of practice. I reckon Bayside 
had been working a fortnight.” 

“Well, I don’t know much about the silly game,” 
said Tom, yawning. “But I did think that inside the 
tackles our line did pretty well.” 

“You turn over! Hickson and I were the life of 
the party. Joking aside, though, did you notice the 
way Fat Norris stood up to that husky center of 
theirs? Fat’s going to be a peach of a center, you 
mark my words ! Oh, on the whole, Tom, we’re going 
to be a pretty good team when we get our bearings.” 

“Yes, if you don’t act like you did last year and 
try to knife Thorne all season and get licked for it!” 

Joe nodded. “I know. That may happen, too. I 
wasn’t one of that bunch last season, but I know there 
was a lot of feeling. If Hal Mansfield will hit it off 
with the coach all right, though, I reckon the others 
will. So far they’re as thick as thieves.” 

“So far Mansfield’s had his say about everything, 
58 


THE CABIN IN THE WOODS 


likely,” commented Tom pessimistically. “Wait till 
he wants to do something one way and Thorne wants 
to do it another.” 

“Well, I don't think Hal’s unreasonable,” said Joe 
judicially. “He must know that he can’t have every- 
thing his own way.” 

“How come ?” asked Jerry, breaking the silence that 
followed. “You can’t pick up a ball after it’s been 
thrown and run with it?” 

“A forward pass, you mean? Why, it’s against the 
rules. You see ” 

“Jerry!” exclaimed Tom sternly. “You go in and 
start that fire! There are some things not suited for 
the ears of youth and innocence !” 

Jerry grinned and obeyed. Joe chuckled. “Take 
it from me, Tom,” he said, “you can’t do it! Jerry’s 
got the football bug and he will be playing before long l 
Better make up your mind to it.” 

Tom frowned and then smiled. “Guess you’re right. 
Joke. He’s certainly mighty interested in it. Well, 
of course, if he really wants to try it ” 

“I hope he will,” said Joe earnestly. “Something 
sort of tells me Jerry’s got it in him to play the old 
game pretty well. You see, Tom, when Jerry starts 
out to do a thing he puts his whole mind on it, and 
that’s a fine asset in football. If you’re going to 
amount to anything at all you’ve got to live football. 
You can’t just think about it while you’re playing it; 
you’ve got to study it every minute and dream of it at 
night. That’s why it takes such a hold on you.” 

59 


KICK FORMATION 


“Yes, and that’s why football chaps are always such 
nuts,” replied Tom insultingly. “Come on and let’s 
give Jerry a hand.” 

An hour later they sat down to a repast fit for a 
king : ham that sizzled enticingly on the tin plates, eggs 
that were symphonies in white and gold, sweet po- 
tatoes baked to a turn and coffee that, if a trifle muddy 
because Joe wouldn’t wait for it to settle, couldn’t have 
tasted better from a silver urn. And, of course, there 
was plenty of bread, and, to top off the feast, a raisin 
pie that was a dream of sweetness. It was still broad 
daylight when they finished, although the shadows 
were long and a whippoorwill was tuning up for his 
evening’s program. Joe took the bucket to the brook 
and filled it and, while they waited for it to heat on 
the little stove, they sat outside and watched the amber 
light fade to gray above the forest to the west and 
were comfortably silent and inert. Later, they washed 
up the dishes, like three tidy housewives, and then 
Jerry saw that the fire was safe to leave and they 
passed out into the twilight, the host locking the door 
and pocketing the key with the air of a landed pro- 
prietor. When they emerged from the shadowed twi- 
light of the woods and gained the highway a little 
wispy crescent of a moon was riding in the eastern sky 
and a gentle breeze blew toward them from the bay. 
In deference to Tom’s plaintive urging, their home- 
ward journey was made at a leisurely pace, and they 
talked of many totally unrelated things, as boys will, 
and settled, to their own satisfaction at least, a number 
60 


THE CABIN IN THE WOODS 


of problems that had puzzled greater minds than theirs. 
When the lights in the school buildings twinkled into 
sight ahead it was well after eight o’clock, and Joe 
assured the others that he could hear the “plaintive 
call of the Striped Pajama.” To which Tom replied 
that if any one discovered him awake half an hour 
from then he’d pay ’em real money 1 


CHAPTER VII 


JERRY TRIES HIS FOOT 

I T was two days later that Jerry, wandering over 
to the gridiron between recitations, found Don 
Sears and Billy Conger amusing themselves with 
a much-scarred football. Jerry watched for a few 
minutes. Don, who was trying for quarter back, man- 
aged to get off some pretty good punts, but Billy, who 
played right guard, was far less adept and his efforts 
usually went astray and occasioned laughter. Finally 
one of Billy’s punts came bounding over to where 
Jerry was standing and disappeared under the stand. 
Obligingly Jerry recovered it and was about to throw 
it across to Don Sears, as he had seen the players do 
in practice, when Don called : 

“Kick it, Benson !” 

Jerry viewed the battered ball doubtfully for an 
instant, hesitating to expose himself to ridicule. Then 
curiosity overcame caution and he poised the pigskin 
in one hand, dropped it and swung a sturdy foot. To 
his overwhelming surprise, foot and ball met perfectly 
and the former went hurtling off in the general direc- 
tion of the smiling Sears and well over his head! 
Jerry watched it in amazement and with supreme de- 
62 


JERRY TRIES HIS FOOT 


light. He couldn’t remember when anything had 
given him quite the satisfaction that kicking that foot- 
ball had ! There had been something supremely grati- 
fying in the sound of that impact of leather against 
leather, and his instep still tingled pleasurably with 
the blow. Don Sears, having recovered the ball, called 
across laughingly. 

“You ought to be out trying for the team, Benson!” 
he shouted. “Looks as if you had as good a wallop in 
your leg as you have in your arms! Want to try 
another ?” 

Jerry shook his head. He did want to, but he 
thought he had better not. Something told him that 
if he once began kicking a football he would become 
an addict to the pastime! Much better stop now, he 
reflected, than form the habit. Tom didn’t want he 
should play the game, and, besides, he shrewdly sus- 
pected that football made large demands on a fellow’s 
time. So Jerry wandered off, not without several back- 
ward looks, pursued by the intoxicating sound of the 
thudding pigskin, and took himself out of temptation’s 
way. 

But that afternoon he evaded Tom after the last 
recitation period and skulked across to the second 
team’s gridiron, where, since the second was not yet 
formed, a dozen or more younger fellows were dis- 
porting. Jerry looked on with assumed indifference 
and several times held himself in leash when a wan- 
dering football dribbled his way. But eventually he 
fell. A ball deliberately lodged at his feet. He might 

63 


KICK FORMATION 


much better have tossed it back, but his right foot 
itched for it and so he followed his procedure of yes- 
terday, or tried to. But this time something went 
wrong. The ball dropped and his foot swung, but that 
was all there was to it! They failed absolutely to 
connect! A small fourth class boy, standing near by, 
sniggered, and Jerry felt extremely silly as he picked 
the ball up and tossed it back. With supreme indiffer- 
ence he thrust his hands in his pockets and lounged 
away. It might seem that that fiasco would have 
dampened his enthusiasm, but as a matter of fact it 
did exactly the opposite. Jerry took himself off more 
firmly enslaved than before! 

He went across to the first team gridiron and 
watched practice from a seat in the stand, and there 
Tom found him later and brought him abruptly to a 
realization of his duties as a baseball man. “You're 
a wonder!" said Tom bitterly. “Not even in togs 
yet! And here it is after half-past and — and every- 
thing! Can't you think about anything but football?" 

“Golly, Tom, I clean forgot!" answered Jerry con- 
tritely. “I hadn’t any notion it was so late. It won't 
take me five minutes to change." 

“It better not !" answered the other grimly. “You've 
got to coach that bunch of new chaps at the net, and 
they're waiting. Get a hustle on!" 

In a way it was strange for Jerry to teach the 
gentle art of smiting a baseball with a bat, for Jerry, 
while he had earned the title of “Three-Base" Benson 
the preceding spring, had a style all his own. Jerry 
64 


JERRY TRIES HIS FOOT 


at the plate looked fey- all the world like a determined 
pair of shears, for he spread his long legs as far apart 
as seemed possible and held his bat so far behind him 
that it was a wonder it ever connected with a ball! 
One acquainted with Jerry’s “stance” would have been 
amused this afternoon to listen to him directing and 
instructing the neophytes. “Feet together, Warner! 
That’s better. Hold your bat lower and not so far 
behind you. ’Twon’t do to chop your swing. Meet 
the ball on the nose. That’s the style! Good work! 
Next man !” 

Tom, hustling over to watch proceedings, smiled a 
little as he listened and exchanged a grin with Bud 
Train, who was pitching straight balls to Crocker. But 
he didn’t let Jerry see his amusement, for Jerry, hav- 
ing closed his ears to the thuds of the footballs, was 
very much absorbed, very serious. Practice that day 
ended with the first game of the fall season, and during 
four innings some very remarkable baseball was played. 

That evening Jerry went over to McCrea House, oc- 
cupied entirely by first class students, and found Don 
Sears in Number 19. For several minutes Jerry talked 
of general topics, and Don, who had never before been 
honored by a call from the other, looked faintly puz- 
zled. At last, though, Jerry broached the real object 
of his visit. 

“I reckon it takes a good while to learn how to kick 
a football, don’t it?” he asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Benson. Of course the more 
practice you have the better you’re going to be at it. 

65 


KICK FORMATION 


I'm not much good at punting, but I'm getting on. 
Had a good half hour at it this afternoon and my 
leg’s fairly lame to-night. Thinking of trying it?” 

“Well, I’d sort of like to,” confessed Jerry. “I ain’t 
ever did — done any of it, Don.” It was a peculiarity 
of Jerry’s that he always addressed acquaintances by 
their first names, no matter how slightly he might 
know them, and that none resented it. For his part, 
he disliked being addressed as Benson, and sooner or 
later said so. “I was thinking,” he went on, “that 
maybe you wouldn’t mind my borrowing that ball you 
were playing with yesterday.” 

“Not a bit,” declared Sears heartily. “I’ll get it. 
It isn’t much good, but you’re welcome to it.” He 
started toward the closet, but Jerry stopped him. 

“I ain’t wanting it to-night,” he explained. “Maybe 
in the morning if you ain’t aiming to use it ” 

“Well, no, I reckon not. That is, what time would 
you want it ? Look here, Benson, why don’t you come 
over to the field about half-past ten and we’ll both use 
it? You see, I sort of want to get in all the practice 
I can. Tub Keller’s a whole lot better at punting than 
I am and I mean to give Tub a fight if I can.” 

“Half-past ten’s all right for me,” answered Jerry, 
“only I reckon it wouldn’t be much fun for you if I 
was to be there. I ain’t ever kicked any ” 

“That’s all right. You’ll learn soon enough. May- 
be I can help you a bit, for there’s a lot in starting: 
right.” 

So it was arranged, and Jerry took himself off and, 
66 


JERRY TRIES HIS FOOT 

since Tom didn’t think to inquire where he had been, 
neglected to tell of his visit to McCrea. The next 
morning he was waiting when Don Sears came to the 
end of the gridiron and sent the battered football hurt- 
ling across to where Jerry stood. Jerry captured it 
and was studying it in a puzzled way when Don joined 
him. “Seems to me,” he said, “you could kick it 
better if it was round instead of being sort of like an 
egg.” He looked up inquiringly as Don laughed. 

“You could, I reckon,” said the latter, “but it would 
be a lot different.” 

“Well, wouldn’t it be a sight easier?” 

“Sure! Don’t ask me why a football’s shaped the 
way it is, for I don’t know. Fact is, Benson, I never 
thought of it before. Footballs always have been this 
way, I suppose, this kind of footballs.” 

“Are there other kinds?” asked Jerry interestedly. 

“Yes, in soccer they use a round ball, but the game’s 
a lot different. Now suppose I show you something 
about locking your knee when you kick, Benson.” 

“Much obliged, but I’d like for you not to call me 
Benson, please. Folks most usually call me just 
Jerry.” 

“All right, Just Jerry,” laughed Don. “Now see. 
Here’s the stunt. Swing from the hip with your leg 
straight. Get it? Don’t bend the knee at all. Lock 
it tight. Try it a few times. That’s sort of like it, 
but you want to swing more — more careless. Get a 
good free swing. Watch me. See how I do it? Let 
your foot go right on up as high as you like. It’s like 
67 


KICK FORMATION 


the ‘follow through' in golf. After you've kicked, 
your toe ought to be pointing right square at the sky. 
Don't ever try a half kick, Ben — I mean Jerry. If 
you want to kick a little ways, kick slower and put 
less punch into it, but always carry through. You’ll 
get the hang of it quick enough. It isn't hard. Just 
takes a lot of practice. Now, about dropping the ball. 
Get it pointing where you want it to go first. Like 
this, right between your two hands. Cant the point 
up well, so’s your instep will strike it squarely under 
the other end. If you're trying for a low, long kick 
you want to drop it so that your foot will meet it 
just as it starts from the ground. If you're after 
height, you kick it a bit later. Whatever you do, don't 
toss the ball. Just open your hands, like this, and let 
the ball drop through. That’s a hard trick to master 
at first. You’ll find you’re dropping it crooked, be- 
cause you’ll be thinking of two or three things at once, 
and the ball will go flying off to the right or left or, 
maybe, not at all ! The best way, I reckon, is just to 
forget about your leg and keep your eyes right on the 
football till you’ve dropped it. After that, watch it 
travel and carry your leg on up. Kicking a football's 
a lot like throwing a baseball, Jerry. You’ve got to 
look where you’re wanting to send it and keep the tar- 
get in mind. There's a lot to learn about pointing the 
ball, but that’ll come later. First off, you want to learn 
to swing your leg right. Try one." 

Jerry’s attempt was a lamentable failure, for he 
dropped the ball too late and it merely dribbled across 
68 


JERRY TRIES HIS FOOT 


the turf for a dozen yards to the left. “You tried to 
think of too many things at once,” chuckled Don. 
“Look here. Your first step is just long enough to 
leave your right foot behind so you’ll get a good 
swing. Try it. That’s it, only you want to swing 
out more. You’re standing too square to the — the 
line of flight, or whatever you want to call it. You 
don’t really face it until you’ve kicked. Some fellows 
swing so wide that they meet the ball with the side of 
the instep and sort of pivot on the left foot, but that’s 
hard unless you’ve learned the knack, and I never 
have.” 

Don had recovered the ball in the course of his 
speech and now he handed it to Jerry again. 

“Suppose you keep your mind on the ball and for- 
get your leg this time,” he suggested. “Step forward, 
drop and swing, only let the swing look after itself. 
Cant the ball a bit more. That’s it. Let her go !” 

There was an encouraging thump this time and the 
pigskin went arching away, fairly straight ahead, for 
a good thirty yards, and Don applauded. “A bit too 
high because you dropped it too late, Jerry,” he said, 
“but not half bad for a beginner. You go on down 
there to about the thirty-five yards and we’ll punt to 
each other. I reckon the quickest way to learn to punt 
is to punt, Jerry. Don’t mind if the ball doesn’t go 
just where you want it to at first. I’ll chase it. I 
reckon you’ll have plenty of mine to chase, too. Can 
you catch?” 


69 


KICK FORMATION 


Jerry shook his head. "I ain’t ever tried,” he an- 
swered. 

“Well, here’s a good chance to,” Don laughed. “Get 
under them if you can and freeze on.” They got the 
ball and started exchanging punts. Possibly Don Sears 
wouldn’t have ranked very high in a list of the world’s 
famous punters, but to Jerry his work seemed miracu- 
lous. Of course, Don didn’t always put them where 
they were supposed to go, but Jerry seldom had to 
chase them further than half the width of the field! 
And not infrequently they came hurtling down fairly 
on top of him and he made brave efforts to catch them. 
Usually they went right through his hands or bounced 
away from his chest, but on three occasions he caught 
the erratic ball firmly and held it and felt a fine glow 
of pride. When it came to punting, Jerry’s efforts 
were not very successful. It just seemed that when he 
gave his mind to poising and dropping the ball his 
leg went astray, and when he thought about swinging 
his leg he dropped the ball wrong. Yet now and then 
he had luck, and once he propelled the pigskin so far 
that Don had to chase away back near the further goal 
line for it, although the last twenty yards or so of its 
travel was done along the ground. 

Running around after the ball, combined with the 
desperate attempts to remember all Don’s instructions 
while kicking, soon had Jerry in a condition of perspira- 
tion, and just when it seemed that his last gasp of breath 
was about to be called on, the bell in the tower of the 
Hall rang and they had to hurry away to recitations. 

70 


JERRY TRIES HIS FOOT 


That afternoon Tom noted a limp in Jerry’s prog- 
ress from Baldwin to the gymnasium and asked the 
reason for it. Jerry was evasive and Tom had other 
things to think of, and so the truth didn’t come out. 
Jerry felt somewhat guilty afterwards and almost de- 
termined to break his engagement with Don Sears for 
the next morning. But when the time came he was 
there, albeit decidedly stiff in the joints, and there 
was another half hour of punting and catching and 
chasing. That program continued for the rest of the 
week, and Jerry began to get the hang of punting and 
his right leg forgot to feel lame after the sessions. 
By Saturday the football bacillus was firmly estab- 
lished in his blood and the indications all pointed to- 
ward a serious case of the malady! 


CHAPTER VIII 


MOUNT SAINT ANNE’S SCORES 


R 


14 * ^ ECKON,” announced Jerry Saturday noon, 
'Til take in the game this afternoon.” 

Tom stared. “What game?” he asked. 

“The football game.” 

“You're dippy, son! The game's over at Mount 
Saint Anne's !” 

“I know. I’m aiming to go there. You going?” 

“Am I going! Do you think I’m clean crazy? Of 
course I’m not going! Why, it's twelve miles and it 
takes an hour, almost, to get there, and you have to 
start at one o’clock! What the dickens do you want 
to go for?” 

Jerry blinked mildly. “I'm aiming to see the game,” 
he said. “There ain’t anything else to do, is there?” 

“Plenty of things, you wild Indian. You can play 
some tennis or read a book or go for a paddle or 
study or — or ” 

“I'd like for you to come along,” interrupted Jerry. 

“Not by a long shot!” 

“I'd pay your fare one way, Tom.” 

“I can pay my own fare, you idiot! What would 
I want to ” 


72 


MOUNT SAINT ANNE’S SCORES 


‘Til pay your fare two ways,” offered Jerry. ‘Td 
like for you to come.” 

“Can’t you say anything but that?” asked Tom dis- 
gustedly. “Look here, Jerry, I wouldn’t go across the 
road to see a football game. It’s just a lot of crazy 
doings, anyway. There’s no sense in it. A lot of 
fellows pushing and shoving around. And it’s too 
blamed hot, anyhow, to sit in the sun to-day. You 
must want to get sunstroke or something !” 

“A right smart lot of the fellers are going,” said 
Jerry undisturbedly. “You ain’t knowing there ain’t 
shade over there, either. I’d like mightily for 


“Shut up! If you say that again I’ll slay you!” 
Tom applied his military brushes savagely to his wet 
hair and grumbled unintelligibly. At last, slipping into 
his coat, he asked: “What time are you going?” 

“The train goes at ten minutes after one.” 

“That means I’ll have to rush through my dinner 
and streak to the station and maybe have a headache 
or something! Oh, all right, you crazy Hill Billy! I 
suppose I’ll have to go !” 

“Well ” Jerry spoke from the doorway, his pale 

blue eyes twinkling, “I’d surely like for you to go !” 

Then he closed the door behind him very quickly 
and beat Tom out of the house by yards. 

After all, the day wasn’t as hot as Tom had prophe- 
sied, and the journey by electric train was quite re- 
freshing, even if, as happened, he and Jerry had to 
stand up all the way to their destination. Fully sixty 
73 


KICK FORMATION 


of the fellows accompanied the team and formed a 
fair-sized cheering section in the stand when the game 
started. Tom professed to suffer agonies from the 
sun, but Jerry didn’t waste much sympathy on him. 
In fact, Jerry paid far more attention to his neighbor 
on the other side, Sam Partridge, than he paid to 
Tom, for Partridge was a football “fan” of the deep- 
est dye and a well of information. Their seats were 
close to the North Bank bench and Jerry could almost 
have touched Coach Thorne had he wanted to. That 
gentleman commanded the situation from his seat, 
never once leaving it until the half was over, and, 
so far as Jerry could determine, with a minimum of 
exertion. A brief word now and then to right or left 
brought a player to him. Followed a short, crisp in- 
struction and the player was trotting out with upraised 
hand to claim the attention of the referee and take the 
place of another. But that was in the second half. 
During the first two ten-minute periods the players 
that started held their positions. 

North Bank showed her superiority right from the 
beginning and had her opponent on the defensive at 
once. The first score came four minutes after the 
kick-off, when Omstead, pulling down a long forward 
pass to the right of the line, raced twenty-six yards for 
a touchdown without serious challenge. For some 
reason the attempt at goal was left to Duveen, and the 
full back, while a fairly good punter, was not so suc- 
cessful at place kicking, and the ball flew off at a 
tangent, to the loudly-expressed relief of Mount Saint 

74 


MOUNT SAINT ANNE’S SCORES 


Anne’s. The end of the first period found the home 
team fighting on her ten yards, and after the ball had 
been transferred to the other end of the field Ashley 
got three yards off left tackle and Duveen four on a 
straight plunge at center and then two more in the 
same place. On fourth down, with less than two to 
go, Tub Keller was shot across, the whole Light Blue 
team behind him. This time Omstead managed a nice 
goal and the score stood 13 to o. 

North Bank started back again after an exchange 
of punts and, mingling two unsuccessful forward passes 
with line plunging, had worked to the home team’s 
twelve when time was called. 

While the teams were off the field Jerry listened 
avidly to Sam Partridge’s words of wisdom. Sam, 
who was a baseball player of some ability, had failed 
signally last year to get placed on either the first or 
second elevens because of his lack of weight. He 
was a typical example of the short and wiry South- 
erner, black-haired, dark-eyed, thin-featured. His 
nervous temperament made him a rather good baseball 
player, but was against him when it came to the other 
game. Football demands something more than ner- 
vous energy, and that was about all Sam had had to 
offer. His failure, however, had not rankled and he 
was, in theory at least, a finished football man, and a 
devoted upholder of the coach. 

“Thorne’s a corker,” he declared, “and it wasn’t his 
fault last year. A lot of the fellows resented his disci- 
pline and got to grumbling and thinking they weren’t 
75 


KICK FORMATION 


being treated right. Towards the end of the season 
things did get sort of straightened out and every one 
tried his best, I reckon, but it was too late. They’d 
soldiered when they ought to have worked and when 
we played Cumbridge we weren’t in her class. We 
couldn’t tackle and we couldn’t catch punts and those 
things beat us. We surely fought hard enough, but 
whenever we’d get a chance to score some one would 
fumble or something. We didn’t have many chances, 
but if we’d taken what we had we’d have tied the 
game anyway. Afterwards a lot of the fellows put 
the blame on Mr. Thome, but it wasn’t up to him, and 
the fellows on the team knew it. He was mighty 
patient, I think, and I know for a fact that he never 
lost his temper once. Some coaches would have thrown 
up the job about the middle of the season, I’ll bet!” 

“Reckon he knows a heap about football,” mused 
Jerry. 

“Thorne? He’s forgotten more than lots of coaches 
know ! But what can you do when the squad doesn’t 
want to be told anything? Last fall he took McMeens 
off and put in Omstead at right half and McMeens 
wanted to fight him and went around for days saying 
that Thorne did it because he had a grouch against 
him, and some of the fellows believed it, or pretended 
they did, and practice was a regular farce. And Om- 
stead had his troubles, too, for McMeen’s friends 
wouldn’t give him a fair chance to make good. But 
Thorne never batted an eyelash. He kept Omstead in 
there and after awhile Jack proved that he was fifty 

76 


MOUNT SAINT ANNE’S SCORES 


per cent better than McMeens. I reckon things are 
going to be different this year, because most of the 
fellows that made trouble then are gone.” 

Tom, who had been listening to the talk, leaned 
across Jerry to say significantly: “There are two of 
them left, Sam.” 

“Two? There’s Ashley. Who else?” 

“Maybe I’m wrong,” answered Tom. “I thought 
there was another.” 

Sam looked puzzled for an instant. Then: “I 
reckon you mean Mansfield,” he said thoughtfully. 
“Well, he was one of them last year, and that’s a fact, 
but he wasn’t captain then, and I reckon being captain 
makes a difference. I’d think it would, anyway.” 

“I hope it will,” said Tom. Then he turned to con- 
verse with the neighbor on his right and Jerry asked 
a question that he had been aching to ask for some 
time. But he lowered his voice in case Tom might be 
listening. 

“What-all do you have to do to get to playing foot- 
ball?” he asked. 

“Do? To play on the team? Why, you have to — 
to make good, of course. You go out for practice and 
if you do well enough you get taken on with the sub- 
stitutes. After that it all depends. Maybe you’re 
an end and there are better fellows ahead of you. 
That means that you get in now and then during the 
earlier games and spend your days hoping something 
will happen to one of the regulars. And when the 
Cumbridge game comes the coach runs you in for a 
77 


KICK FORMATION 


couple of minutes at the end so you can have your 
letters. But I reckon you have a pretty good time of 
it. I know I'd be willing to be a sub end if I couldn't 
do any better. That was the position I tried for, but I 
was too light. The day I got dropped with a lot of 
others Mr. Thorne came to me and explained why it 
was. Reckon he was afraid I was feeling hurt, maybe. 
Anyhow, he was right nice and told me I wasn't to 
feel bad about it and that he had watched me play 
and would have kept me on if I’d had more weight. 
I thought that was mighty nice of him.” 

“It sure was,” agreed Jerry warmly. After a mo- 
ment he said : “I reckon I'd be too light, wouldn't I?” 

“You?” Sam cast a swift, appraising glance over 
him. “I don't believe so, Benson. Not for end, any- 
way. You aren't heavy, but you look wiry and you’ve 
got height. Ever played any?” 

“Never have, excusing a little kicking.” 

“Why don't you go out and see what you can do? 
I heard Billy Conger say that they were going to make 
a call for more candidates Monday. You look pretty 
hard, Benson, anyway, and you wouldn't have to train 
down any !" 

Jerry chuckled. “Reckon if I trained down there 
wouldn't be anything left of me! You say they're 
wanting more fellers to play?” 

“That's what Billy said. But you don't have to wait 
to be asked, anyway. All you need to do is go out 
and tell Naughton you want to try. There they come! 
Wake up, Tom! Let's have a cheer!” 

78 


MOUNT SAINT ANNE’S SCORES 

Mount Saint Anne’s showed more fight when the 
battle was resumed, and resorted to a more open style of 
play. In the first half she had wasted much effort in 
trying to break the enemy’s line and had lost the ball on 
downs several times when a punt would have been of 
more benefit to her. Now, with the start of the third 
period, she lengthened her line and spread her back 
field and, having captured North Bank’s kick-off on 
her twenty-two yards, mingled end runs and forward 
passes until she had reached the middle of the field. 
There she lost the ball by a fumble only to recover it 
a moment later when Ashley dropped it. With her 
full back faking a forward, she knifed a half through 
between Conger and Kirkham for twelve long yards, 
and the home team supporters howled with delight. 
But when she tried the same play a minute or two 
later the runner was thrown for a loss and she eventu- 
ally had to punt. 

Tub Keller got the ball near North Bank’s five-yard 
line and evaded the opposing left end. After that, by 
some miracle, he dodged and twisted his way along the 
farther side of the field, aided by hastily-formed in- 
terference and was on the enemy’s thirty-three when 
he was pulled down from behind by a long-legged 
Mount Saint Anne’s tackle. A plunge at the left of 
the line failed and Duveen, faking a drop kick, threw 
forward to Mansfield for the distance. Two attacks at 
the center put the pigskin on the sixteen yards, and 
from there, with Duveen and Omstead alternating, it 
went across squarely between the posts in six plays. 

79 


KICK FORMATION 

Omstead kicked the goal and brought the score 
to 20. 

That the local eleven would score seemed more than 
doubtful, and perhaps she would not have if, after that 
third touchdown, Mr. Thorne had not begun to send 
substitutes in. At the end of the third period five 
first-string players had been withdrawn, and when the 
last quarter began three more had followed. So it 
was practically a substitute team that faced Mount 
Saint Anne’s when the whistle blew again, and many 
of its members had never played in a real game. 
Mount Saint Anne’s had made several changes during 
the course of the game, but at the start of the final 
quarter she presented what was possibly her strongest 
line-up. At all events, the unexpected happened, and 
happened with such ease and smoothness that even 
North Bank had to applaud ! 

The period was some three minutes old when a 
short punt by Don Sears, at quarter, gave Mount Saint 
Anne’s the ball on her forty-five yards. Two end runs 
netted her her distance and a yard more, Browne, 
playing right end for North Bank, being neatly boxed 
each time. A risky double pass added a scant two 
yards and a skin-tackle play two more. Then Mount 
Saint Anne’s tried a forward pass that almost suc- 
ceeded and, on fourth down, was forced to punt. The 
ball eluded Summerfield, who, with Sears, had gone 
back, and was finally down on North Bank’s seven 
yards. The Light Blue made six yards in two tries, 
and then Schurtman, at full back, punted. Again the 
80 


MOUNT SAINT ANNE’S SCORES 


kick was short and the enemy started back from North 
Bank’s thirty-five. A fake at the left, with the ball 
going to the right, gained four yards. A forward 
pass over the middle of the line grounded. Then came 
the play that was too much for the inexperience of the 
opponents. The full back took kicking position and 
as the ball went back to him from center the left end 
started around. Full back faked a forward to his 
right, but instead of throwing the ball he kept it and, 
just as North Bank piled through to him, tossed it 
behind him to the circling end. It was the end who 
made the throw, and he made it to his left and well 
down the field to where a half back who had eluded 
the enemy was waiting with a clear field ahead of him. 
That was a fine throw and a remarkable catch, and 
afterwards only a miracle could have prevented a 
score, for the half back was absolutely unguarded and 
he had but a dozen strides to take. The best North 
Bank could do was to keep him from centering the 
ball behind the goal, and in doing that she probably 
kept the six points from becoming seven, for the 
angle was too much for the goal kicker. 

Mount Saint Anne’s went quite crazy over that 
score and even her opponent applauded. As Sam 
Partridge observed enthusiastically, that throw had 
been a notable one. Mount Saint Anne’s went back 
to the fray with redoubled ardor, but North Bank, 
smarting under the punishment, held her safe for the 
remaining few minutes of the quarter and, just before 
the last whistle blew, took partial revenge by adding 
81 


KICK FORMATION 


three more points to her twenty. Standing on his 
twenty-five yard line, Don Sears, with, as he confided 
to Jerry a day or two later, his heart in his mouth, 
kicked the ball neatly over the bar. 

A few minutes later North Bank, having cheered 
the defeated enemy, started joyfully homeward, well 
content with the day. 


CHAPTER IX 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 

T HERE was a yell from the lower corridor the 
next morning: “Oh, Benson! Jerry Benson! 
Telephone!” 

Jerry descended, wondering. Only once before had 
he ever been summoned to the instrument, and that 
had been in the spring when Major Laurence had asked 
him over to dinner. This morning a strange voice 
came to him when he picked up the receiver. 

“Hello! Is that you, Benson? Well, this is Ted 
Ingraham. Say, mother got on to that stunt last 
Sunday, Benson, and she wants you to come over for 
supper to-night. How about it? Til get you in the 
canoe.” 

For a moment Jerry recalled neither the name nor 
the “stunt.” 

“Who did you say you were?” he asked in puzzle- 
ment. 

“Ingraham. You know, the fellow you towed to the 
beach last Sunday? Forgotten?” 

“Oh! No, I ain't forgot, but — I reckon I can’t 
come to supper. I wish you’d tell your mother that 
83 


KICK FORMATION 


I'm powerful much obliged to her, though. It’s — it’s 
right kind of her.” 

“Oh, shucks! Why can't you come? You’d better. 
Look here, if you don’t mother’ll be over there to see 
you, certain sure. She’s just bound to thank you for 
saving my life” — Jerry heard chuckles at the other 
end — “and she’ll do it, Benson. You’d better come 
over here and let her do it quietly ! I’ll be at the float 
at four. How’s that?” 

“Why, I don’t know. I reckon I’d rather ” 

“All right, then! Four o’clock, Benson! Bye-bye, 
see you later!” 

“Hold on!” called Jerry, but there was no reply 
and he knew that Ingraham had hung up. For a mo- 
ment he deliberated renewing the connection and beg- 
ging off definitely, but in the end he decided to see 
it through. If Mrs. Ingraham was the determined 
sort of lady that her son described her as being per- 
haps it would be wiser to accept the invitation. Jerry 
had a disturbing vision of a large and ample woman 
expressing her gratitude in front of the Hall to the 
delight of the assembled school! Of course, it might 
not happen just that way, but you couldn’t be certain! 

There was another surprise in store for him, for 
after dinner there was a knock at the door and Purves 
Jordan came in. Jordan was a member of the first 
class, a rather large youth with good looks that were 
somewhat marred by an arrogant expression and a 
pair of mandarin spectacles. Jordan had very dark 
hair that was worn slicked back from his forehead in 

84 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 


a shiny wave that suggested much brilliantine. Jordan 
was popularly supposed to pattern his tonsorial effect 
on that of a well-known moving picture hero. To-day 
he was as carefully attired as usual, and his hair, or 
so much of it as was visible beneath his school cap, 
was smooth and radiant. He appeared slightly embar- 
rassed, which was very unusual for Jordan, and ac- 
cepted Tom’s invitation to enter somewhat hesitantly. 
After a moments talk of the game yesterday he reached 
the object of his visit. 

“I want to see about hiring the Cabin for next 
Saturday evening, Benson,” he announced. “Want 
to take a few fellows out there and have a little party. 
We’d do our own cooking, of course, and clean every- 
thing up after us. Weren’t going to use it yourself, 
were you, that evening?” 

The question suggested a ready excuse to Jerry, but 
he didn’t like lies, even conventional ones. “No, I 
wasn’t going to use it,” he answered slowly, “but I 
ain’t never rented it, Jordan.” 

“Maybe you’ve never had a chance,” said the visitor, 
with a laugh. “What about the price? A couple of 
dollars do?” Jordan considered that he was offering 
about twice what it was worth. He knew that Jerry 
hadn’t much money and believed that such a munificent 
sum would outweigh any hesitation. Consequently he 
was surprised, and showed it, when Jerry shook his 
head. 

“Reckon I don’t want to rent the Cabin, Jordan. 
Much obliged to you, but I’d rather not.” 

85 


KICK FORMATION 


“Oh, piffle, Benson! We won't hurt it any! Give 
you my word we'll clean everything up shipshape be- 
fore we leave, and lock the door and everything. I’ll 
pay you now, too, if you like." He pulled out a pig- 
skin coin purse and, opening it, exposed much silver 
and some folded bills. “Might as well make a little 
money out of the place, eh ?" 

“I'm right sorry," said Jerry, “but I ain't wishing 
to rent it." 

Jordan frowned and glanced inquiringly at Tom, 
who shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. “Don't 
appeal to me, Jordan," he said. “If Jerry doesn't 
want to he won't, I guess. Might as well put your 
gold away." 

“Oh, all right," answered the other huffily. “But 
I don’t see why you’re so choice of the old shack. 
There isn't anything there to hurt, I reckon, Benson. 
Look here, I’ll buy the whole thing from you, if you 
say so. Give you ten dollars for it." 

Jerry's eyes snapped, but he answered as mildly as 
before. “I ain't wishing to sell, thanks." 

Jordan laughed as he dropped his purse back in a 
pocket and stood up. “Well, I reckon you couldn't, 
anyway, could you? I mean it isn't yours, is it? 
Any more than it's mine or any one else's. Can't sell 
what don't belong to you, eh, Hartley?" 

“Don't reckon I'd have any right to sell it," replied 
Jerry, “but it's mine a heap more than it is any other 
fellow's, just the same. I found it and fixed it up, 
Jordan, and that sort of gives me title, don't it?" 

86 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 


“I wouldn’t think it did,” answered Jordan, with 
a shrug. “Well, I’m sorry you won’t let us have it, 
but if you won’t that’s all there is to it.” He paused 
questioningly with a hand on the door knob. 

“Reckon so,” said Jerry amiably. 

“All right. But you can’t expect fellows to — to 
patronize the place if you’re so pesky mean with it, 
Benson. You might just think of that. Bye !” Jordan 
took his departure, closing the door very gently when, 
as those behind him knew well, he would much rather 
have slammed it! Tom was grinning enjoyably when 
Jerry turned to him. 

“That sort of evens things up, doesn’t it, Jeremiah?” 
he asked. 

“I didn’t refuse him to even anything up,” an- 
swered Jerry. “I just don’t like to have fellers go out 
there when I ain’t around. I — I’m sort of fond of 
that Cabin.” 

“Well, I’m rather glad you turned him down. He 
was so cocksure about it! I guess I don’t like him 
any better than Joke does, and Joke can’t stand him. 
Wonder who he was going to take out there with him. 
Munson and Tarbell and that gang of toffs, I sup- 
pose.” 

“Toughs?” questioned Jerry. 

“Not exactly. ‘Toffs’ was the word. An English 
expression, Jerry, meaning — well, about what we’d 
call a ‘sport.’ You know Munson, don’t you? I 
mean you know him when you see him?” 

“I reckon so. I’ve seen — saw ■” 

87 


KICK FORMATION 


“Seen will do, Jerry.” 

“Seen him with Jordan, I reckon. Sort of a fat 
feller, and wears silk shirts and silk socks.” 

“Quite so, only he would probably refer to them 
as hose, Jerry. When socks cost over a dollar a pair 
they automatically become hose.” 

Jerry blinked. Then he chuckled. “Sort of re- 
minds me of Derby Boose,” he said. 

“And who was Derby Boose?” 

“Feller back home in Huckinsburg. He was a 
barber. Leastways, he was evenings and Saturdays. 
Other times he worked for Mr. Gaines, over to the 
freight house. He had one chair in the back of 
Pap’s store until his wife died and left him three 
hundred and forty dollars. Then he moved into the 
other half of Schroder’s feed store, bought him an- 
other chair and painted ‘Tonsorial Artist’ on the win- 
dow.” 

Tom laughed. “Does he work regular at it now, 
or just evenings ?” 

“Just evenings and all day Saturday,” answered 
Jerry. “Mostly on Saturday, though. Folks in Huck- 
insburg ain’t particular about getting shaved during 
the week.” 

“Jerry, I guess I’ll have to see Huckinsburg some 
time. You’ll have to take me home with you next 
summer.” 

Jerry smiled. “Reckon you’d find a right smart 
of funny things there,” he said. “Folks, too.” 

“I’ll bet I would,” laughed Tom. Then he sobered. 

88 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 


"I don’t know that I would, either, Jerry,” he went 
on. “Guess I wouldn’t laugh at them, anyway.” 

“I wouldn’t want you should,” said Jerry gravely. 

At four o’clock, attired in his best suit, with his 
shoes shined to an almost blinding radiance and un- 
comfortably conscious of one of Tom’s high collars 
about his neck, Jerry descended to the float and found 
Ted Ingraham awaiting him in the canoe. Ingraham 
was dressed — or undressed, as you like — in a scanty 
blue bathing suit, and Jerry, recalling the plight from 
which he had rescued the other a week ago, wondered 
whether his host’s attire was not the more appropriate 
for the undertaking before them. But he strove to 
disguise his apprehensions as he made his way care- 
fully to the bow seat and, at Ted’s invitation, picked 
up the second paddle. 

“We’ll paddle down to the bridge and back,” an- 
nounced Ted gayly. “Supper isn’t until six-thirty and 
we’ll have stacks of time. Take her straight out to 
the middle and we’ll get the tide. Say, you needn’t 
think I let on about that spill, Benson. A neighbor 
up the river saw it from her house and she called yes- 
terday and let out about it. Mother had a conniption 
and made me fess up. She insists that you saved my 
life and you’re in for a fine old time when she gets 
you! But it won’t last long. You might as well let 
her think what she likes, Benson, for she’s got her heart 
set on making a hero of you. Just let her have her 
say and get through with it. She’s all right, you 
89 


KICK FORMATION 


understand, only she’s — she’s funny that way. You 
know how mothers are.” 

“I ain’t ever had one,” Jerry replied, “but I reckon 
I know how you mean. Sort of — of coddling.” 

“Coddling?” Ted Ingraham looked dubious. 
“Well, maybe,” he said, “only my mother isn’t ex- 
actly like that ; not nowadays, anyhow. What do you 
mean when you say you never had a mother ?” 

“I mean I don’t remember her. Course I did have 
one ; father, too ; but they died when I was a baby.” 

Ted considered that in silence a moment while he 
dug his paddle with slow, steady sweeps. Then: 
“You’re a queer character, Benson,” he chuckled. 
Jerry was quite unaffected by the statement. He was 
thinking that floating downstream was pleasant enough 
but that paddling back was likely to emphasize his 
deficiencies as a canoeist. After a moment Ted asked : 
“You know Purves Jordan, don’t you?” 

“Not very well.” 

“He’s a bit of a pill,” chuckled Ted, “even if he is 
my cousin. Mother thinks he’s a wonder, but a little 
of him goes a long way with me. He wants me to 
go on some sort of a shindig next Saturday with him 
and some of the fellows over there ; a kind of a picnic, 
I reckon; but I don’t know as I will. I don’t know 
the other chaps, and if they’re like Purves I don’t want 
to. Who does the light blue canoe belong to, Benson ?” 

Jerry looked and shook his head. “I don’t know,” 
he answered. “If they were nearer maybe I’d know 
them.” 


90 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 


‘That’s a good-looking canoe of yours,” said Ted. 
“Had it long?” 

“ Tain’t mine. It belongs to Billy Conger. I just 
borrowed it.” 

Ted chuckled again. “Thought you didn’t act like 
you knew much about it. I reckon you haven’t done 
much paddling, have you?” 

“I never did any till last Sunday,” replied Jerry. 

“Well, you certainly had your nerve ! Still, if you’re 
a good swimmer it’s all right. Just the same, it’s a 
sight better to have a bathing suit on. I don’t care 
how well you can swim, Benson, if you go over in your 
clothes you have a pretty hard time of it.” 

“Reckon I could swim about as well with my clothes 
on as I could with them off,” answered Jerry calmly. 
“I ain’t much of a swimmer.” 

“For the love of mud! Boy, you’d better stay off 
the river! If you can’t paddle better than you seem 
to and can’t swim much, you’re taking awful chances.” 
Ted suddenly burst into a laugh. “My, that’s funny!” 
he gasped. 

“What?” inquired Jerry mildly. 

“Mother wanting to fall on your neck for saving 
my life ! And you never having paddled a canoe be- 
fore! Say, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell her!” 

“Reckon I ought to,” said Jerry. “Don’t seem 
right to let her think I done what I didn’t do, does it ?” 

“Well, I don’t see any harm in it. Anyway, you 
don’t need to say anything unless she asks you. Let’s 

91 


KICK FORMATION 


swing around and take her back now. It won’t be so 
easy going upstream.” 

Nor was it, and before very long Jerry had to shift 
his paddle to port to relieve the aching in his arms 
and back. By the time they were opposite the school 
landing again the river was almost deserted and the 
windows of Founders’ Hall were aglow with the rays 
of the setting sun. Soon they swung in toward the 
purple-shadowed bank where the strip of white beach 
lay and made for the little float there. Ted’s mast and 
sail lay along the planks and he pointed to them as he 
and Jerry lifted the canoe from the water. 

“Reckon I’ll have to make that smaller,” he said. 
“There’s too much spread for a canoe without an out- 
rigger. I’ve been over five times so far, and mother’s 
getting fidgety. Women don’t understand much about 
sailing and all that.” 

Jerry followed his host along a steep path that zig- 
zagged its way up the bank and presently came out on 
a plateau of lawn and shrubbery where, against a 
background of forest, the Ingraham bungalow stood 
and looked up and down the river with lattice-window 
eyes. As the boys crossed the grass a small and rather 
droopy lady arose from a chair on the veranda and 
came to meet them at the step. Jerry’s vision of a 
large and overpowering woman died a sudden death. 
Ted’s mother was no larger than Ted, and Jerry’s 
dread of the meeting vanished. He felt rather 
ashamed, however, when she took his two hands and 
thanked him lavishly for rescuing Ted from what she 
92 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 


called “a watery grave,” and he would have disclaimed 
all credit had it not been for Ted's meaningful looks 
and warning gestures. Afterwards, Jerry concluded 
that Ted’s advice had been excusable, for there was no 
doubt that Mrs. Ingraham derived a lot of pleasure in 
expressing her gratitude and in, during the rest of 
Jerry’s stay, referring to him at intervals as a hero. 
She seemed a kind-hearted little lady, but extremely 
nervous and timid, and confided to Jerry that during 
the summer she seldom had a happy moment. 

“Ted is always in that horrid canoe or jumping off 
places into the river. Of course he will be killed some 
day, but I can’t do anything with him. He will take 
his life in his hands. I shall be so glad when we get 
back to Baltimore!” 

“Gee, I don’t see why you don’t go, then,” said Ted. 
“You can’t go any too soon for me, and I keep telling 
you so !” 

“Ted dear, you know how much better my health 
is here,” reminded his mother gently. “If only you 
would go to North Bank while we’re here and not 
spend all your time on the river I wouldn’t be so wor- 
ried. I dare say you know Purves Jordan, Mr. Ben- 
son? He’s such a dear boy and so — so manly. He’s 
my sister-in-law’s boy, Ted’s cousin. I tell Ted that 
with Purves there North Bank would be a splendid 
place for him. And he really ought to go to school 
more. He’s not had nearly enough education. But 
you might just as well talk to a stone wall as to Ted.” 
Mrs. Ingraham sighed and Ted winked wickedly. “I 
93 


KICK FORMATION 


suppose,” continued the lady, “if his father had only 
lived things would have have been different. A father 
is so good for a boy, I always think. I’m sure you 
must have excellent parents, Mr. Benson.” 

“No’m, I ain’t,” replied Jerry apologetically. “They 
died when I was little.” 

Mrs. Ingraham was very sympathetic about that, 
so much so that Jerry was vastly relieved when a col- 
ored maid appeared and announced that supper was 
ready. The meal was a very good one and Jerry was 
hungry, but Mrs. Ingraham talked to him so incessantly 
and asked so many questions that he didn’t make out 
very well. Afterwards Ted bore him upstairs to a 
low-ceilinged and many-windowed room over the river 
and showed him his treasures : books and stamps and 
a quite remarkable collection of skins from animals 
that Ted had trapped or shot himself. There were 
several squirrel skins, red and gray, and a chipmunk 
and two mink and a raccoon and even a fox, and rabbit, 
of course. Ted’s curing, however, had not been very 
well done and most of the pelts were stiff and hard. 
Jerry was able to give him pointers there and the 
two amateur taxidermists compared notes for some 
while. Jerry had never seen so many books, outside 
the school library, as Ted possessed. There were three 
long and low cases filled with them, and, while Ted 
talked, Jerry browsed quite excitedly. 

“If there are any you want to borrow,” said Ted, 
“help yourself.” 

Jerry selected a sober-clad, rather musty old volume 
94 


JERRY ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 


called The Signers of the Declaration , much to Ted’s 
surprise, and then, at the latter’s earnest solicitation, 
added three more books to his pile : a volume of South 
American travels, The Conquest of the West, and a 
more gayly-bound one which Ted enthusiastically 
recommended and whose engaging title was The Mys- 
tery of the Pink Pavilion. An hour later, when he 
followed his host down the path to the float and some- 
what blindly embarked in the gray canoe, he was so 
encumbered that progress was slow and difficult. Ted 
did the paddling across the darkened river and Jerry 
crouched in the bow and clutched his treasures and 
watched the lights along the banks and the distant 
bridge. He reflected that Ted Ingraham had improved 
on acquaintance and that it would be only proper to 
invite him to supper at the Cabin soon. But he didn’t 
issue the invitation then. He only thanked Ted for 
his hospitality and the books and agreed to visit him 
again soon, and Ted cried a cheery good-night from 
the mysterious gloom of the river as Jerry made his 
way up the slope. 


CHAPTER X 


FIRST LESSONS 

T OM was out when Jerry reached the room, and 
so he settled down for an hour's study. If he 
yielded to the temptation that was assailing he 
would, he reflected, need to make the most of such 
spare moments as the present. And that reminded 
him once more that he had a confession to make to 
Tom, and that he rather dreaded making it. Tom 
was the closest friend he had ever had, with the ex- 
ception of Pap Huckins, and he hated to disappoint 
him ever so slightly. Of course what he contemplated 
doing wasn't going to affect his chum very much, but 
he feared that it would look horribly like desertion. 

However, Jerry wasn't one to put off a duty merely 
because it was unpleasant, and when Tom came back 
from a conference of cheer leaders in Fred Sanford's 
room — Sanford was captain of the crew and president 
of the first class — Jerry took a deep breath and broke 
the news. 

“Tom, I reckon I’m going to see if they'll let me play 
football,” he announced. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Tom neither turned pale 

96 


FIRST LESSONS 


nor showed agitation in any other way. Instead he 
turned from clearing his bed of the multitude of ar- 
ticles that collected there daily and viewed his room- 
mate quite calmly. “Well,” he answered, “I guess 
they will, for a while, anyway.” 

Jerry blinked. After a moment he said: “I — I 
thought I’d tell you.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“You don’t seem much surprised.” 

“I’m not. I’ve been expecting you to spring it for 
a week.” 

“Oh! Well, you — you ain’t caring?” 

Tom laughed. “Don’t be an idiot, Jerry,” he an- 
swered. “If you want to play football why shouldn’t 
you play it? I’m going to miss you on the baseball 
squad, of course, but I’ll get along all right. From 
what Perry Naughton said this evening I judge that 
they’ll be glad to have you. Naughton says they’re 
short of good men this year and that they’re going 
after ’em to-morrow. When are you going to start?” 

“To-morrow, I reckon. That is, if I can find some- 
thing to wear. Don Sears has got a pair of pants he 
says I can borrow, but I ain’t got the rest of the 
clothes.” 

“Ask the trainer for a pair of shoes. They’ve got 
plenty of extra ones. All you need then is a jersey. 
Let’s see, I think I’ve got an old one over at the gym 
in the locker. I’ll look in the morning. It won’t pay 
you to buy anything until you’ve found out whether 
you’re going to like it; and whether they’re going to 
97 


KICK FORMATION 


like you. Sears says you’re quite a punter, Jerry.” 

“I reckon he was just talking. I — I’ve been sort 
of messing about with a ball over there mornings.” 

“Yes, I saw you once.” 

“Oh!” Jerry looked as if he had been detected in 
a crime. “I — I didn’t think you knew. You see, I 
didn’t mean to — to desert you, at first, and so I didn’t 
say anything about it.” 

“Don’t you worry about deserting me,” laughed 
Tom. “Of course I tried to discourage you, for it’s 
mighty hard to get enough fellows to make baseball 
practice worth while in the fall, but when I saw that 
you really had the football bug I quit. I hope you’ll 
make good, Jeremiah, and if you play football the way 
you do baseball, you certainly will !” 

“I reckon I won’t do much,” answered Jerry mod- 
estly. “I don’t know football very well, Tom. There’s 
a lot of it that I just don’t sense.” 

“There’s a lot of it that hasn’t any sense,” chuckled 
the other. “But don’t let that trouble you. They’ll 
teach you enough to play your position and that’s about 
all you’ll need to learn. You let the coach do the 
heavy thinking and just develop a good straight-arm 
jab and a fine hard bite, Jerry.” 

“How do you mean, bite?” asked Jerry innocently. 

“Why, with your teeth, boy ! Gosh, you don’t think 
it’s all done with the hands and feet, do you? When 
you get an opponent down you must be able to bite his 
nose off. Just gouging an eye out won’t get you any- 
where !” 


98 


FIRST LESSONS 


“Reckon that’s why they wear those rubber things 
on their faces,” mused Jerry gravely. “Well, I’ve got 
right strong teeth. Reckon there’ll be other fellers 
joining to-morrow? I wouldn’t want to be the only 
one, Tom.” 

“I guess so. You should worry about that, Jerry. 
Every fellow looks the fool once in his life !” 

Jerry’s fears proved needless the next afternoon 
when, at half-past three, he made his way rather self- 
consciously from gymnasium to gridiron. At least 
eight other boys had responded to Coach Thorne’s 
appeal, which had been read by Doctor Heidler, among 
other announcements, after chapel. Most of them 
looked to be far from varsity material, but there were 
one or two likely seeming youths in the number. Jerry, 
attired in a very worn pair of khaki trousers, a faded 
light-blue jersey, borrowed shoes and striped baseball 
stockings, felt rather strange and tried to hide himself 
amongst the other tyros, one or two of whom were 
known to him. But they had a way of wandering ner- 
vously about, leaving him suddenly alone and exposed 
to the gaze of the gathering audience on the seats, an 
audience that, lacking a more exciting way of spending 
an hour or so, was inclined to find amusement on the 
slightest excuse. However, if any found Jerry amus- 
ing, or even detected his presence, they kept it to them- 
selves, and presently Coach Thome, who lived in An- 
napolis and journeyed out to the school daily in a mud- 
splashed Ford car, made his appearance, and Manager 

99 


KICK FORMATION 


Naughton called: “New candidates this way!” and 
Jerry followed the others and had his name set down 
on Naughton’s list. By that time three squads were 
busy about the field, two practicing formations and a 
third leaping at the dummy in the far corner. Coach 
Thorne came and looked the new candidates over 
sharply. 

“I hope you fellows are in earnest,” he said. “If 
you aren’t you might just as well quit before you be- 
gin. What’s your name, you big chap?” 

“Pentland, sir.” 

“Any experience?” 

“I played on my house team last year.” 

“In the line? Guard or tackle?” 

“No, sir, full back.” 

“Better try for tackle, Pentland. Next fellow, what’s 
your name ?” 

“Chase.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Sixteen in December.” 

“Which December? Last or next?” 

“Next, sir.” 

“Thought so. You’re too light, Chase. Sorry, but 
we can’t use you. Thanks for coming out, though. 
Hello, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I ? Were you out 
last year ?” 

“No, sir,” replied Jerry, next in line. “I — you saw 
me on the train coming from Washington, sir.” 

“On the train? Oh, yes, I remember. Ever played 
football?” 


100 


FIRST LESSONS 


“No, sir.” 

“Then I don’t see how we can use you — er 

What’s the name?” 

“Oh, you’re Benson, of the Nine, eh? Is this your 
usual weight?” 

“I reckon so.” 

“Ever handled a ball at all ? Football, I mean.” 

“I’ve punted a little.” 

“Have, eh? Well, all right, Benson, you can punt 
a little more. Back field for you. Tell the trainer to 
put some weight on you, please.” 

One more candidate was eliminated with polite re- 
grets by the coach and then all were bidden follow 
him onto the field and there, under the stern eye of 
Jackson, summoned from Squad A, the seven youths 
went through a highly concentrated drill in handling 
a football. They passed the ball and fell on it and 
picked it up on the bound and did everything with it 
but swallow it, or so the tall, slow-moving Pentland 
confided to Jerry in one of the brief pauses. The 
tasks were novel to Jerry, but he did fairly well, thanks 
to the slight experience he had gained with Don Sears. 
His faculty for putting his entire mind on whatever 
undertaking was before him helped considerably and 
he escaped any of the biting criticisms that Andy Jack- 
son snapped out for the benefit of the others. Later, 
they were lined up and taught to start off full speed 
at the snapping of the ball in the hand of Jackson. 
At least thirty times they tried that, watching the 
poised ball, darting off headlong and trotting breath- 
101 


KICK FORMATION 


lessly back again, and in most cases failing to satisfy 
the critical instructor. 

“Say, you big chap! Take the weights out of your 
shoes and hustle ! You’re left on the mark every time ! 
And you, Prentiss, don’t try to beat the ball. Watch 
it and not me. Now then, once more ! Imagine you’re 
playing end and that a punt’s coming. Your job is 
to get down the field to tackle. And you want to get 
there quick. The other fellow isn’t going to wait for 
you. Jump off and hit your stride quick. Get set!” 

By the time Jackson was willing to stop they were 
all pretty much out of breath and he set them pass- 
ing the ball again while he delivered a brief lecture on 
speed. Occasionally Jerry’s eyes wandered to where 
the punters were at work and the air appeared to be 
filled with soaring footballs, and it was borne to him 
that he was destined to serve a long and arduous ap- 
prenticeship before he would be found among those 
privileged mortals. When, finally, even the modest 
area of the field the new candidates occupied was de- 
manded for scrimmage Jackson led them down to the 
tackling dummy and introduced them to a new amuse- 
ment. 

“You fellows understand, I suppose,” said the coach 
pro tern rather severely, “that we don’t usually try to 
teach a little of everything in one day. But you’ve 
got to hustle if you’re going to catch up with the 
others who have been out for a fortnight, and so I’m 
going to let you try a little tackling. I don’t expect 
you to show much form. All I ask is that you listen 
102 


FIRST LESSONS 


to what I tell you and try to do it right. Make a line 
there. Now, when I pull the dummy across go for it. 
Remember that flying tackles are barred. Always keep 
one foot at least on the ground. When you tackle, 
tackle hard. Try to bring the dummy down. You 
can't do it, but you can try. One of you fellows pull 
this rope for me and I’ll show you how it's done. All 
right, let her go.” 

Jackson poised himself, shot forward, there was a 
thud of canvas against canvas, the pulley rattled and 
the stuffed effigy of an enemy stopped short in its brief 
career across the trampled pit. Jackson released his 
hold of the swinging legs and jumped to his feet. 

“That's the way. Get your body in front of the 
other fellow every time. Never tackle from behind 
unless you have to. If you're behind him he will drag 
you forward, but if you’re in front of him he's got 
to stop. Come on now! First man! You, Leonard! 
Hard! Hard!” 

It was rather interesting work. The dummy proved 
astonishingly elusive and scarcely one of the tyros 
connected on the first attempt. Even the more ex- 
perienced Pentland failed and Jerry got only an arm- 
ful of air and a mouthful of dirt as his portion. But 
they all did better at the second attempt and at last 
Jackson had to grunt approval now and then. And 
once he had to caution Jerry. 

“I said to tackle hard, Benson, but I didn't tell you 
to wreck the whole works !” he said. 

Jerry grinned as he wiped the soil from his cheek 

103 


KICK FORMATION 


and went back to the end of the line, for he had cer- 
tainly stopped the old bag of rags that time ! 

Eventually Jackson called a halt and dismissed them 
with final words of wisdom. “You fellows have done 
mighty well,” he said, “for beginners. Keep it up and 
you may get somewhere. But you’ve got to work hard 
if you want to stick around. Now when you get over 
to the gym go to Riordan and see that he weighs you. 
Do that every day until he tells you you don’t have to. 
Watch your eating and use sense. Don’t gobble your 
food and don’t eat a lot of stuff that just tastes good 
but doesn’t help you any. Sleep all you can, but don’t 
do it after seven in the morning. It’s the sleep you 
get early that does the most good. It isn’t my place to 
give you all his dope, but you fellows have tried hard 
to-day and I’d like to see every last one of you make 
good. Beat it now. Better not stay around the field 
unless you put blankets over your shoulders, either. 
Best thing for you-all is a cool shower and a good 
rubdown. That’s all !” 

That evening Jerry was tired and sore in many un- 
accustomed localities, but he was also oddly elated, for 
he was conscious of having performed as well as any 
of his companions, not excepting Pentland, who, by 
reason of having played through last season’s series' 
between the Houses, ought certainly to have excelled. 
Even when, attempting to move about with too much 
alacrity, he groaned in spirit, if not aloud, he was con- 
tented. A volunteer, he had won the commendation 
of his superior officer! 


104 


FIRST LESSONS 


Tom made a good deal of fun of him that evening, 
solicitously feeling of his arms while Jerry winced and 
pretending admiration of a long scratch on one cheek. 
“It gives you quite a desperate look, Jerry,” Tom de- 
clared, “and that’s what you want. Half the battle’s 
in scaring the" enemy beforehand. Look ferocious 
enough and he’s just bound to keep away from you. 
If you only had one eye closed, now, you’d look like a 
regular football thug !” 

But Jerry didn’t mind his banter. Nor did it inter- 
fere, when continued at the supper table, with his 
appetite. He ate mightily, although circumspectly ac- 
cording to his limited knowledge of dietetics, and found 
a brand new enjoyment in food. Later, heroically re- 
fusing to accompany Tom and Joe to a lecture in Hall, 
he studied resolutely so long as he was able to keep his 
eyes open. When Tom got back he found Jerry fast 
asleep with his head pillowed on Moreton’s Algebra 
for Use in Schools and Colleges. 

In such manner began Jerry’s football career, and 
in much the same manner it continued for the suc- 
ceeding week or ten days, during which time West 
Shore Academy defeated North Bank by three points 
to none on North Bank’s own gridiron and pessimists 
shook their heads and predicted another season of de- 
feat. Doubtless the pessimists lost sight of the fact 
that last season’s team had had to struggle along with- 
out the services of Jerry Benson! 

That West Shore contest was disappointing, though, 
to even the most loyal adherents of the Light Blue. 

105 


KICK FORMATION 


Everything went wrong that possibly could go wrong 
from the kick-off. Tub Keller was hurt in the first 
tackle and had to give way to Don Sears and Sears 
lasted only until half-time. Then Cleary took his place, 
and Cleary had had far too little experience and got his 
plays off so slowly that the enemy came piling through 
on top of him more than once. Omstead was off his 
game, and Duveen was certainly far from his best 
form, and when it came time for the Light Blue to 
smash her way across for a touchdown the smash 
wasn’t there and West Shore held her finally on the 
one-yard line and kicked out of danger. In the second 
quarter Conger had his nose broken, and Furchgott, 
who substituted, was no match for his opponent. It 
was Furchgott who was accountable for the three 
points scored by the enemy, for it was through his 
position that the West Shore tackle broke in time to 
block Duveen’s punt and chase it back to North Bank’s 
twenty-two yards. West Shore tried one attack on the 
line, failed at a forward pass and then, on third down, 
kicked a goal from the field. 

North Bank got rather better as the game progressed, 
and twice in the fourth period she was within the 
enemy’s thirty, but always the punch necessary to take 
the pigskin across the last white lines was missing. 
Jerry watched the game through from the bench, pride 
in the privilege marred by sorrow over the team’s de- 
feat. There were times when it seemed to him that, 
had he been in his place, he could have done better 
than one or other of the players! 


CHAPTER XI 


LEFT BEHIND 

S UMMER lingers late in Maryland, and all through 
the week following the West Shore game the 
weather was warm, too warm, in truth, for those 
who pursued the elusive football. The early mornings 
might be gray with fog from the Chesapeake, but by 
the time breakfast was over an ardent sun had burned 
the mist away, and when half-past three arrived those 
who sought fame on the gridiron found woolen jerseys 
and stockings and padded trousers very unsympathetic. 
Jerry experienced less discomfort than many others, 
for he was not overburdened with flesh. He felt 
rather sorry for Pete Norris, the first-choice center. 
Pete's nickname of ‘‘Fat" tells you why! Norris, by 
the time scrimmage arrived, fairly exuded moisture. 
Still, you are not to conclude that Norris was espe- 
cially soft, for much of what looked to be fat was 
pretty firm flesh and muscle. Otherwise he would 
never have been able to play the game he did play in 
the middle of the North Bank line. But those mid- 
October days were hard on him, and he complained to 
Jerry one afternoon that if the weather didn’t get 
cooler mighty soon no one would be able to tell them 
107 


KICK FORMATION 


apart. That amused Jerry considerably, for he could 
have seated himself twice in the space on the bench 
occupied — and fully occupied — by Fat ! 

By Thursday of that week Andy Jackson was re- 
lieved of his duty of coach to the awkward squad. In 
fact, the awkward squad ceased to be. Some of the 
awkwardness doubtless remained, but the squad van- 
ished and the nine members — there had been additions 
from day to day during the preceding week, and one 
or two members had disappeared — became parts of 
the four squads. Jerry found himself with Squad C, 
and Pentland was with him. Being placed on Squad 

C, however, was no greater honor than assignment to 

D, or less than going to B. Outside Squad A all 
candidates were theoretically on an equal footing, and 
good players and mediocre players mingled. The 
squad arrangement was only for the purpose of for- 
mation drill, and when that was finished the players 
were classed according to the position they were trying 
for: backs, ends, tackles, guards and centers. For 
perhaps a half hour each day Jerry followed around be- 
hind Cleary and walked or trotted through simple 
plays from a balanced formation. Then with most of 
the other back-field candidates he caught and punted 
for awhile. Some time during the afternoon he went 
with a dozen or so others and hurled himself at the 
swaying dummy as it rattled back and forth on its 
cable. There were few idle moments between three- 
thirty and five, or later, and few dull ones. Pentland 
assured Jerry pessimistically — Pentland seemed to be 

108 


LEFT BEHIND 


a bom pessimist — that when the weather got cooler 
and the season advanced they would have to stay out 
until nearly six ; that Thorne was a whale for working 
his men. About a quarter to five Jerry went to the 
bench, drew a blanket about his shoulders, no matter 
how warm the day, and watched Squad A do battle 
with an opposing team composed of remaining as- 
pirants. Both teams, especially that designated as B, 
changed their line-ups frequently and it was no un- 
common thing for as many as thirty fellows to play 
on B during a twenty-minute scrimmage. Of course 
Jerry was likely to be called on to play half on B Team 
any afternoon now, but for some reason he wasn’t. 
Others came and went, but Jerry sweltered under his 
blue blanket and almost grew fast to the bench! 

On Friday, a full week later than usual, a second 
team was formed and took possession of the practice 
gridiron. Caspar Trumbull was made captain and, a 
few days later, a small, bullet-headed graduate came 
down from Baltimore and took charge as coach. His 
name was Tibbs and he was called “Jump” because 
“Jump!” was his favorite exclamation during prac- 
tice. That exhortation was added to his slightest com- 
mand, as : “Johnson, move that water pail off the 
field! Jump!” or “Clemson, find Riordan and get a 
pair of laces ! Jump !” Most of this Jerry knew only 
by hearsay, for, to his disappointment, he was not 
delegated to the second. There was a cut imminent, 
and he knew it, and it seemed to him that his one 
chance of continuing as a football player lay in getting 
109 


KICK FORMATION 


placed on the second. But the second came into being 
and Jerry still adorned the substitute’s bench during 
scrimmage and tried to think of a graceful way of 
telling Tom some day soon that he had been dropped! 
Sixteen players went with the second team and about 
thirty remained with the first, and, since Jerry had 
learned from several sources that the first team squad 
was always eventually diminished to no more than 
twenty-six, he was certain that his gridiron career 
was about to end. He tried to be philosophical, but 
he did wish that they had judged him good enough for 
the second. He didn’t appraise his abilities very highly, 
but he thought himself able to play half back as well 
as some of the second team chaps. 

On Saturday the team went off to play Severn 
School, and, as he had expected, Jerry was not among 
those taken. He and several other discarded ones 
went to Annapolis and saw the Navy play North 
Carolina. Jerry’s sympathies were with the husky, 
long-legged team from the south, and he cheered for 
the honor of his native state long after all others had 
ceased and the Blue-and-Gold had piled up a safe lead. 
In spite of a one-sided score, the game was interesting 
all through, with the visitors never ceasing their threats 
and, toward the end, opening up a quite remarkable 
passing game. North Carolina’s forward passes made 
a good deal of an impression on the North Bank group, 
and on the way back to school — after they had par- 
taken of the enticing concoction known as fruit salad 
at the comer confectioner’s — they discussed Coach 
no 


LEFT BEHIND 


Thorne's neglect of the aerial game and became quite 
impassioned in their denunciation of that gentleman's 
disregard of its possibilities. All, that is to say, save 
Jerry. Jerry didn't do any criticizing, first because 
he was rather ignorant of the subject, and second be- 
cause he had a conviction that Coach Thorne knew his 
business. He did venture an observation to that effect, 
but Furchgott, who was, perhaps, a bit disgruntled at 
not having been taken along that day with the squad, 
took issue. Coach Thorne, he declared positively, was 
old-fashioned and taught football as it had been taught 
to him ten years ago. 

“Why, look at the plays he gives us,” invited the 
substitute guard. “Last year the team learned exactly 
fifteen, and all from one formation! How are you 
going to fool the other fellow when every play starts 
from the same back-field arrangement? And how long 
is it going to take him to learn as few plays as that? 
Why, gosh, one western college had thirty-four plays 
on her list last season! Thirty-four! And we had 
fifteen! Can you beat it? No wonder we got licked 
by Cumbridge. And I'll bet you anything we get licked 
to-day, too. The team's got twelve plays and all of 
them are as old as the hills!” 

“It doesn't make any difference how old a play is,” 
demurred Dimond, “if it goes. If the other fellow 
doesn't size the play up in. time to meet it an old one's 
as good as a new one. Besides, there aren't any new 
plays. What they call new ones are old ones revamped. 
Take that 'twist play’ of Cumbridge's last fall. It 
111 


KICK FORMATION 


wasn’t anything but the old crisscross with a new 
name. The only difference was that Cumbridge put 
her full back up in the line to hold the opposing tackle 
in.” 

“That’s all right,” replied Furchgott, “but it was 
new enough to fool us every time it was tried.” 

“But that wasn’t because there was anything novel 
about it, it was because they worked it well and we 
couldn’t see it coming. We did get onto it finally and 
stopped it.” 

“All the same, Thome’s an old fogy when it comes 
to new stuff,” insisted the guard. “The only forward 
passes he gives us are short tosses over the line, and 
they won’t go for anything when we run up against a 
real smart team. Long passes are what we ought to 
have. Look at some of those heaves North Carolina 
made to-day. Why, gosh, one of them was forty 
yards if it was an inch!” 

“But the Navy got it,” remarked Jerry mildly. “It 
don’t look to me like it was much help to the Uni- 
versity.” 

“Maybe Navy did get that one, but she mightn’t 
have, and if she hadn’t, that end would have been across 
her goal in a wink. You’ve got to take some chances !” 

“That’s right,” agreed another member of the party. 
“And those kind of plays worry the enemy, let me 
tell you. He never knows when you’re going to spring 
something and he plays his backs deep and that weakens 
his line.” 

“Of course it does,” said Furchgott. “Bet you we 
112 


LEFT BEHIND 


won't get away with a single forward pass to-day. 
That short heave's no good. It's just as likely to go 
to the opponent as to your own men, a sight likelier! 
Severn will eat that baby stuff up, believe me!" 

“Think we'll get licked, do you ?" asked Dimond. 

“Sure of it. You wait and see." 

By waiting they did see, and Furchgott was proved 
a good prophet. North Bank returned in a chastened 
mood, having been defeated n to 3. Severn's unusual 
score had been secured by a touchdown, a field goal 
and a safety, the latter when a forward had broken 
through and tackled Duveen in the act of getting off 
a punt just short of his goal line and borne him back 
for two points. North Bank had saved herself from 
an empty slate when, in the final period, one of the 
short passes ridiculed by Furchgott had paved the way 
for an advance to the enemy's twenty-three yards, 
from where Omstead had put the pigskin over the 
crossbar very neatly. But Severn had a good team 
that fall and North Bank had missed the services of 
Tub Keller, still on the injured list, and so, while the 
squad came back chastened, it was by no means apolo- 
getic. Indeed, Jerry, listening to the alibis offered by 
Joe Kirkham and Billy Conger in Number 7 that 
evening after supper, wondered that Severn had not 
run up several hundred points on a weak and unfortu- 
nate opponent ! Anyhow, that was the last beating of 
the season. Joe said so, and said so so emphatically 
that Jerry believed it, even when Billy drew attention 
to the fact that St. John's College, across the river in 
113 


KICK FORMATION 


Annapolis, was on the North Bank schedule. Joe 
snapped his fingers at St. John’s. “They licked us 
last year, but that’s not saying they’ll do it this year, 
Billy. We’ve got twice the team we had then ” 

Billy expressed incredulity by throwing his hands 
in the air. 

“That’s all right!” declared Joe. “We sure have 
just the same. I don’t say the players are any better, 
but the — the morale is just about three times what it 
was last fall. And that’s going to see us through.” 

Jerry hesitatingly inquired whether Coach Thome 
knew he was courting disaster by not paying more at- 
tention to forward passing, and quoted Furchgott on 
the subject. Both Joe and Billy broke into speech at 
once and overwhelmed Jerry with assurances that 
Coach Thorne knew forward passing from A to Izzard, 
that the short pass was the best, that long heaves were 
too uncertain except against weak opponents and that 
Furchgott didn’t know what he was talking about ! All 
of which comforted Jerry in a measure and vindicated 
his opinion of the coach’s wisdom. You see, Jerry had 
made rather a hero of Mr. Thome, and one doesn’t 
like to hear one’s heroes belittled. 

There was another picnic supper at the Cabin Sun- 
day evening, Tom, Joe and Billy being the distinguished 
guests, and on Monday, having survived a Latin re- 
view, Jerry appeared at the field cheerfully reconciled 
to his impending dismissal. Instead of dismissal, how- 
ever, he found another and far different fate awaiting 
him. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE PRACTICE GAME 

S EVERAL familiar faces were missing that after- 
noon, for the Severn game had been hard-fought 
and certain members of the team stood in need 
of rest. Those who had remained in for the entire 
four periods were excused wholly, while others who 
had participated were released before the scrimmage 
started. Thus it happened that the first to-day had to 
recruit most of its members from B Squad and Coach 
Thorne was hard put to fill some of the positions. 
Only one first-string player was available for the line, 
and that was Hickson at left tackle. The rest of the 
forwards were second and third choice fellows. In 
the back-field, Cleary, who had played but a few min- 
utes on Saturday, was at quarter, and Jordan, Gray 
and Schurtman filled the other places. 

The second team, when it came across from the 
other gridiron, perhaps realized that here was a fine 
opportunity to wreak vengeance for former beatings, 
and, driven hard by Coach Tibbs, started in to make 
the fur fly. The first was extremely ragged and early 
indications showed a bad twenty minutes ahead of it. 
After the kick-off the second tore the opponents cen- 
1X5 


KICK FORMATION 

ter to pieces and reached midfield on seven plays. 
Coach Thome stopped operations then while he read 
the riot act to the center trio, and Hickson, acting cap- 
tain, was heard to threaten Furchgott with bodily harm 
if he didn't stop the enemy. As a result, the second 
got only six yards on three downs and had to punt 
from the first's forty-eight yards. Cleary caught and 
scuttled back for twenty before he was thrown, and 
then the first got together long enough to make their 
distance twice. But, past midfield, Schurtman was 
forced to punt and the ball went almost straight in 
the air and, having landed, rolled toward the wrong 
goal until Cleary fell on it. The gain was something 
less than ten yards and it was the second's ball on her 
thirty-five. Then the day of reckoning arrived. Work- 
ing one end and then the other for six and eight yards 
at a time, completely hoodwinking the first team ends 
and disposing of the backs without difficulty, the second 
crossed the middle of the field and tore on toward the 
enemy’s goal. Only infrequently was a thrust at the 
line made. Coach Tibbs' sharp “Jump!” sounded in- 
cessantly, and his men jumped ! Hickson stormed and 
raved and worked like a Trojan at his end, but Crook 
was no match for the wily second team runners and 
although Hickson made the left wing less popular than 
the other to the enemy, gains still came there. Coach 
Thorne commanded and threatened and, when the rout 
had reached the first's thirty-five yards, put in a new 
end and a new tackle at the right wing. Second made 
the twenty-seven on a double pass that carried her 
116 


THE PRACTICE GAME 


left half, behind excellent interference, on a wide run 
around his right. After that the first stiffened and 
the gains became shorter. But they continued. Four 
downs took the enemy to the sixteen. There, faking 
a try-at-goal, the second team full back hit the line 
at the left of center and plunged through to the twelve. 
A play outside left tackle was stopped and a quarter- 
back run yielded only a yard, and the handful of first 
team substitutes, clustered on the side line, shouted 
triumphantly. The whole second team back-field was 
in the next play and the runner piled through for fully 
five yards, Furchgott proving the weak spot. It was 
second team’s ball just inside the six yards on first 
down then and a touchdown seemed certain. 

But a second plunge at left guard netted less than 
a yard when the secondary defense piled in behind 
Furchgott and an attempted forward pass over the line 
grounded. A puzzling delayed pass took the second 
to the four yards and then the second’s full back went 
up the field. “Watch for a forward !” shouted Hick- 
son. “Watch that ball, fellows!” Even the side line 
audience warned of a fake, but there was no trick 
planned. Instead, the ball went back to the kicker 
and he, standing squarely on the twenty-yard line, 
lifted it neatly over the crossbar. 

First team kicked off again and second came back 
on the jump, but Manager Naughton’s horn squawked 
time after the third play. It was a very tired lot of 
players who slumped onto the bench, but weariness 
didn’t protect them from Coach Thorne’s eloquence 
117 


KICK FORMATION 


and they were forced to listen to many bitter truths 
during the succeeding ten minutes. There was a con-) 
certed and audible sigh of relief when the coach left 
them and joined Mr. Tibbs, although the earnest and 
enthusiastic manner in which the two conversed gave 
them the appearance of arch conspirators and seemed 
to bode no good for the players. When time was up 
Coach Thorne spoke more cheerfully. 

“I want a touchdown this quarter,” he announced 
quite as though he expected it. “You fellows must 
fight. It's ridiculous letting the second put it over on 
you like that. You linemen, get down and break those 
plays up. Don’t let the back-field do your work for 
you. All right! Same line-up. Hold on, though. I 
want a punter in there. Benson! Benson, you see 
what you can do. Where have you played? Right 
half?” 

“No, sir, left.” 

“All right. That let’s you out, Jordan. Let’s get 
at it!” 

Jerry wasn’t nearly so elated as he had thought he 
would be under such circumstances. It wasn’t that he 
was afraid in the ordinary meaning of the word, but 
there is no denying that he almost wished that Coach 
Thorne hadn’t called on him. Being out there for the 
first time was strange and rather unnerving, and he 
devoutly hoped that Cleary wouldn’t give him the ball 
until he had at least recalled the signals which for the 
first minute or so were gone completely. Yet, after 
the second had kicked off and Schurtman had received 
118 


THE PRACTICE GAME 


and smashed his way back for half a dozen yards with 
two of the enemy clinging to him, Jerry forgot to be 
self-conscious or dismayed. A hefty second team for- 
ward had shouldered him onto the turf and the double 
concussion was just what was needed. When he had 
picked himself up and trotted to position at the left 
of the back-field formation he was not only ready but 
eager for the ball, and was disappointed when the 
signals called for a full-back buck through right of 
center. Jerry’s duty was to go through between his 
own guard and tackle on the left. Schurtman didn’t 
get far, nor, on a similar play to the left of center, 
did he do much better. The opponent was more than 
a match for the first when it came to line attacks. 
Cleary tried Gray outside tackle on a straight buck 
and gained three, and, with four to go on fourth down, 
called : “Benson back !” 

Jerry swallowed hard as he turned and walked back 
to kicking position, and swallowed again when he 
found himself ranged almost at the coach’s elbow. “A 
little further, Benson,” the latter directed. “That’s 
better. Take your time and punt high. Your ends 
aren’t fast and you’ve got to let them get down under 
the ball.” 

Cleary was piping the signals. Jerry shifted un- 
easily on his feet, held his hands out and tried to re- 
member all he had ever been taught of punting, and 
remembered nothing at all! Then something loomed 
large before his eyes, by some miracle settled in his 
hands instead of striking him in the face and, as he 
119 


KICK FORMATION 


shifted it instinctively, became known to him as the 
ball! What happened immediately after he didn’t 
know. Three forms came plunging down on him as 
his foot swung and he knew that the kick was blocked 
and that eternal disgrace was to be his portion! Yet 
the threatening enemy forms veered past him, the 
players were running down the field and he found 
himself standing there alone and deserted. Even Coach 
Thorne was trotting away from him, and against the 
blue sky, fairly on a line with the goal, was the ball. 
He had kicked clear after all! Delight wrapped him 
and exultation possessed his soul ! He had done it ! 

In the course of time it occurred to him to follow 
his team mates, and he sprinted fast to where, near 
the enemy’s twenty-five-yard line, a second team back 
was receiving first aid to the injured. Crook had 
tackled most of the breath from the opponent’s body. 
Hickson sprang at Jerry and slapped him on the shoul- 
der. “A corker, Benson!” he panted. “A corker, 
boy!” Jerry grinned embarrassedly and pulled his 
helmet down tighter. Then Mr. Thorne spoke at his 
elbow. “A good punt, Benson,” he said warmly. 
“Good distance, good direction and good height. You 
let your ends get down nicely. Keep it up.” 

Jerry was veritably thrilled, and, when, the second 
team quarter having recovered some of his lost breath, 
the second tried the first team’s center, he was into 
the play hard and stopped the hole nobly at the ex- 
pense of an ensanguined nose. He missed a tackle 
miserably a moment later and arose painfully humili-i 
120 


THE PRACTICE GAME 


ated, after most of the enemy had walked on him, hu- 
miliated and sore in mind and body. “Rotten, Benson !” 
said the coach. “Go into him! Don't let him scare 
you! Get him, boy!" 

So a minute or two later, when the second had made 
her distance and appeared to be again under way for 
a triumphant voyage down the field, he went into 
him and got him! The play was a left half-back 
plunge off tackle. Crook was forced out and Hickson 
boxed and the interference, headed by the full back, 
came straight at him. Quite instinctively, Jerry avoided 
the first man through. Then he smashed forward, 
banged up against a body, closed his long arms tightly 
and braced with every muscle. The enemy came on, 
though, and Jerry went down, but the enemy with him. 
Somewhere outside the confusion of tramping feet 
and panting breaths and the rasping of canvas against 
canvas a whistle shrilled. Some thrice-blessed bene- 
factor rolled the weight from Jerry's prostrate form 
and pried his hands loose. Then he lost interest in 
proceedings until a smelly sponge washed over his face 
and he returned to an agonized consciousness. He 
gasped for breath and found none, and the pain was 
horrible. Some one was raising his arms over his 
head and folding them back on his chest, slowly, 
methodically. He wished that they'd stop. He wished 
they'd let him die in peace. Then one aching breath 
took some air into his lungs and the relief was heav- 
enly. Down came the obnoxious sponge again and 
this time it felt more grateful as it soaked the breast 
121 


KICK FORMATION 


of his jersey with the chill water. His gasps became 
only long quiet breaths and he opened his eyes, remem- 
bering. Only the trainer was with him. All the others 
were standing or sitting about, quite indifferent to his 
plight. He felt rather resentful. 

“All right, lad,” said the trainer. “Up you get!” 

Jerry had very little desire to get up, but when he 
had been raised to his feet, clinging rather weakly to 
the trainer’s shoulders, he concluded that in the course 
of time, perhaps in another hour or so, he would be 
himself again. Evidently, though, the trainer was in 
favor of a more speedy recovery, for he insisted on 
walking Jerry around, and Jerry, much to his surprise, 
found walking rather pleasant and presently drew 
away from the trainer’s supporting arm, took a long 
breath, shook his head and remarked impatiently: 
“Head guard!” 

“You’ll do,” laughed Riordan. “Here you are. All 
right, Coach!” 

Mr. Thome stopped conferring with Mr. Tibbs and 
came across. “All right, Benson?” he asked. “That 
was a good tackle. You got your man and got him 
hard. I like to see snap. Keep it up. Line up, First !” 

Jerry was rather weak and dizzy for a few plays, 
but it didn’t last, and by the time second was forced 
to punt in midfield he was himself again. First team 
came back hard, but, when she had made her distance 
twice, the second time on a forward pass that netted 
sixteen yards, two plunges were stopped for no gain 
and Cleary’s attempt to get around right end resulted 
122 


THE PRACTICE GAME 


in a loss of several yards. Again the call of “Benson 
back!” came and again Jerry booted, this time with 
more confidence. He didn’t see that Mr. Thome was 
watching him with curious intentness, nor did he heed 
the clamor of the charging lines or the plunging enemy 
that threatened. He found himself thinking clearly 
of his task, realized that he had swung powerfully and 
that the impact of foot and ball had been hard and 
clean and had time to see the pigskin start off straight 
toward the further goal ere a burly second team guard 
cut off his vision. This time, too, he didn’t fall into 
a trance, but side-stepped the enemy and streaked down 
the field in the wake of the others. 

The punt didn’t quite equal the first one in distance, 
yet it was fully as well directed and was high enough 
to let Crook and Browne reach the catcher and pull 
him down before he could move from his tracks. 
Second team accepted the challenge then and punted 
on second down. In reply, Cleary wormed straight 
ahead for four yards and then, sending Jerry back to 
kicking position, gave the ball to Gray, who took it 
outside left tackle for more than the distance. A mo- 
ment later Schurtman fumbled the pass, and, although 
he fell on it, a seven-yard loss resulted, and, after a 
forward had failed, Jerry again kicked. The second 
team left half was under the ball when it came down 
but he failed to hold it. There was a wild scramble 
and a jumbled pile-up of players, and when the ball 
was uncovered it lay safely in Brown’s hands on the 
second team’s seventeen yards ! 

123 


KICK FORMATION 


Tumult and clamor then, and the coaches barking 
encouragement! Schurtman on a split buck through 
left of center for three, Gray past left tackle for one, 
Jerry back and Schurtman plunging straight into the 
line for four! Fourth down and two to go! The 
second crouching low, her backs huddled anxiously 
close to the line, only the quarter guarding the territory 
behind. Schurtman back, and a well-passed ball to 
his outstretched hands ! Cries from the defenders of 
“Watch the pass!” Then a sweep to the left of Schurt- 
man’s empty hand and a quick plunge forward, the 
pigskin hugged to his stomach! Cries, grunts, the 
sound of striking bodies! A yard, two, the second 
giving at the left of her center, a pause as the back- 
field players pile in behind the yielding linemen, then 
forward again, Schurtman the center of a maelstrom 
of pushing, fighting, panting bodies! And, finally, a 
rout, with the full back staggering almost free and 
plunging on past frantically clutching hands, almost 
stopped yet breaking free and, at last, dropping across 
the last trampled mark! 

Jerry, breathless, his helmet gone, one stocking flap- 
ping about his foot, gently removed some one’s legs 
from his face and stood up. A glance told him that 
the team had scored and a great joy was his. For 
the moment that touchdown seemed to him the most 
wonderful thing that had ever happened ! He wanted 
to shout or do a handspring, but he had too little breath 
for the first and too little strength for the latter, and 
so he contented himself with grinning from ear to ear 
124 


THE PRACTICE GAME 


and trotting back with the others while Cleary plumped 
himself down on the turf and poised the ball for 
Schurtman. 

Schurtman didn’t come within ten yards of the 
nearest goal post, but no one cared much, unless it 
was Mr. Thome. The first team had its revenge ! 

A minute later the scrimmage ended and peace fell 
over the field of battle, and the panting, wearied and 
ofttimes limping players sought the relief of showers 
and liniment. Those who had watched from the stand 
followed across the field, and Jerry, soaked with 
perspiration, begrimed with dirt and noticeably favor- 
ing his left leg, heard a voice beside him. 

“Reckon those were right good punts,” said Tom, 
mimicking his chum. “Fellers’ll be calling you ‘Forty- 
Yard’ Benson ’stead of ‘Three-Base’ Benson, first thing 
you know, likely!” 

Jerry grinned, laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder and 
plodded on. After a moment he said reflectively : “I’m 
sort of glad I did like I did, Tom, because it ain’t 
likely I’ll be playing after to-day.” 

“What’s the matter? Going to leave us?” 

“Reckon I’ll be leaving the team. There’s a cut 
coming.” 

Tom laughed derisively. “A fat chance you’ve got 
of leaving it, Jerry !” he answered. “Why, you couldn’t 
pry yourself loose with dynamite after to-day!” 


CHAPTER XIII 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 

D OUBTLESS Tom’s statement was slightly ex- 
aggerated, but true it is that Jerry’s name was 
not among the names of those who were rele- 
gated to the second team. Instead, he found himself 
the next day the object of flattering but disconcerting 
attention on the part of Coach Thorne. The coach 
led him apart before practice started and talked to him 
earnestly. As well as Jerry could recall afterwards 
what he said, it was something like this: “Benson, 
you’ve got the making of a good punter, and a good 
punter is something we can use this year. Of course, 
you ought to have reported for work three weeks ago, 
and I can’t understand why you didn’t, but there’s no 
use going into that now. The season’s half gone and 
it’s going to be a man’s job to pull you around, but it 
can be done, I reckon, if you’ll do your share. You’ll 
have to work hard, boy, mighty hard, and there’s al- 
ways the bare chance that the time’s too short, but I 
don’t believe it is. You’ll have to do pretty nearly 
twice as much work as the others, and stand a lot of 
bullying and come up smiling every time. You’ll have 
to forget about everything except football, barring 
126 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 


your studies; of course, and bend every energy on mak- 
ing good. How do you feel about it? Seem worth 
while to you?” ** 

“Golly!” stammered Jerry. “It sure does, sir!” 

“All right. You've got two, possibly three, good 
men ahead of you. Left half's your position and that's 
what you’re trying for. That means that you've got 
to learn a heap in the next three weeks. You're up 
against two fellows at least, Benson, who are second 
year players : Omstead and Jordan. Playing half back 
doesn’t mean just running the ends or bucking the line. 
It means taking passes, interfering for the runner, 
following the ends down under punts, plugging holes 
in your line, catching punts and a dozen other things. 
And, in your case, it means punting besides. Boy, 
there's a lot for you to learn, but you seem to have 
sense, and I know you've got grit, and I think you'll 
make good. I’m going to use you hard, Benson, but 
I'll make a football player of you if it can be done. 
You work for me, boy, and I’ll do my best for you. 
Outside of regular practice hours you’ll get in a full 
hour of punting every day from now until the Cum- 
bridge game. You may split the hour into two halves 
if you like, but I want you to give me full time. I’ll 
see that you have a ball for your own use. Keep it in 
your locker and don’t let it get away from you. Don't 
overdo it at first. Start slowly and rest when you're 
tired. But learn something all the time. I'll watch 
you and help you all I can, but you’ll have to be your 
own coach most of the time. Now, can you find a 
127 


KICK FORMATION 


fellow to work with you and get the ball back to you?” 

“I reckon I can,” answered Jerry doubtfully. 

“See what you can do. If you can’t find any one, 
let me know and I’ll try. All right now. One thing 
more, though, Benson. Got any weak spots you know 
of? Ever sprain an ankle or a wrist or anything?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Quite sound, are you?” 

“Yes, sir, I reckon I am. I — I cut my foot with 
an ax once, but it ain’t hurting me none now.” 

“Cut your foot with an ax? How long ago was 
that ?” 

Jerry studied a moment. “ ’Bout eleven years, sir.” 

Mr. Thorne laughed. “Don’t think we need to 
worry much about that, Benson! All right. Join 
Sears’ squad over there and get started. You can’t 
afford to lose one single minute in the next three 
weeks, boy! Remember that and make every second 
count !” 

Jerry’s heart swelled with joy and a truly desperate 
enthusiasm possessed him as he hurried across the grid- 
iron. It seemed to him that he had been honored as 
none had ever been honored before, and all Mr. 
Thorne’s talk of work and difficulties made no im- 
pression on him. With such a goal in sight, no work 
could be really hard, no difficulty worth considering! 
And yet, despite his ardor — or perhaps because of it — 
everything went badly from the first that afternoon. 
He made inexcusable mistakes in formation drill, 
missed most of his tackles at the dummy, punted 
128 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 


wretchedly and, finally, played a headless game at left 
half for some eight minutes of the scrimmage until 
Coach Thome sent him back to the bench and gave his 
place to Jordan. 

Jerry drew a blanket about his shoulders and hung 
his head for shame. He had failed already and dis- 
grace instead of honor was his reward ! What had got 
into him he couldn’t imagine. He had tried desperately 
hard at everything and everything had gone wrong. 
He recalled standing out there a few minutes before 
like a stuffed dummy, the ball in his hands, while 
the second had piled through and overwhelmed him. 
The play had been his, but he had mixed his signals 
and, having taken the ball because it was thrust to him, 
had had no idea what to do with it. Remembering 
now, his face flooded with color and he ground his 
teeth! Of course, everything was all over for him. 
Mr. Thorne would tell him so presently. 

And yet when, a few minutes later, the teams came 
back to the benches Mr. Thorne’s gaze passed Jerry 
quite casually, and Jerry drew a long breath of re- 
lief and dared hope. Yet but a few seconds later he 
knew that the end had come, for the Coach was calling 
him. Jerry arose with a sinking heart and walked 
out to the side line. 

“Better go in, Benson,” said Mr. Thorne. “We 
won’t need you again.” 

“Yes, sir.” Yet Jerry hesitated. The coach looked 
inquiring. 

“Well?” he asked. 


129 


KICK FORMATION 


Jerry gulped. “You mean I ain't to play any more, 
sir?" he asked. 

"‘Not to-day, Benson. You've worked enough. By 
the way" — Coach Thorne's mouth curved in a 
smile — “there's such a thing as trying too hard, boy. 
Try to let down a bit to-morrow. You'll get along 
better !" 

“Y-yes, sir!" Jerry blinked rapidly, turned on his 
heel, tried to thrust his hands into his pockets and 
found he had none and set off for the gymnasium. 
Somewhere on the way the trailing blanket parted com- 
pany with him, but Jerry didn’t know it. 

Things went much better on Wednesday. In the 
morning he sought the trainer and came away with a 
battle-stained and much scuffed football, and for more 
than an hour, between two recitations, he punted on 
the second team gridiron. Most of the time he had 
to go after the ball himself, but toward the end of 
the time a small fourth class boy performed that task 
for him, finding his reward in the privilege of being 
allowed to kick it back. As the younger chap knew 
little of kicking there were long pauses, but Jerry was 
weary enough by then to welcome them. In the after- 
noon he showed possibilities during the ten-minute 
period in which he displaced Jordan, and managed the 
one punt that he was called on to make very creditably. 
And he showed up rather well on defense, considering 
his inexperience. Yet he received his full share of 
criticism from the coach. It was: “Benson, get in 
position! You’re too far out!" “Where were you 

130 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 


then, Benson? Don’t you know that play?” “Left 
half, that was rotten! You missed your man entirely! 
You’ve got to watch the play!” However, as about 
every other player was similarly criticized, Jerry wasn’t 
disheartened. 

During the second period he sat on the bench, con- 
scious that Purves Jordan was glowering at him from 
further along, while Omstead performed. Jerry for- 
got Jordan in watching Omstead, noting how he stood 
and started and seemed to know instinctively where 
the play was coming. Omstead, though, was not called 
on to punt and so Jerry was not able to get any points 
from his rival there. Jerry wondered often whether he 
would ever develop that kind of machine-like smooth- 
ness that marked the playing of Omstead and Ashley 
and Duveen. Purves Jordan’s rivalry worried Jerry 
but little. Jordan was not especially experienced and 
could not punt. He played a rather clever running 
game, but, like Jerry, he lacked the weight necessary 
to a formidable plunger. If, however, Jordan didn’t 
worry Jerry greatly, the reverse was not so. Jerry’s 
sudden and unlooked for appearance troubled Jordan 
a good deal. The latter had not, it is true, stood more 
than a very slender chance of getting placed in the 
first team back-field, but he had been fairly certain 
of getting into a few of the major games for short 
periods and of capturing his letters in the final con- 
test of all. Now, however, with Ashley, Benson and, 
perhaps, Gray ahead of him, the blue “N. B.” looked 
far less distinct to his imagination. He had never 
131 


KICK FORMATION 


liked Benson, anyhow, right from the first, and nothing 
that had happened since had changed his sentiments. 
Now he liked him less than ever. And, noting Mr. 
Thorne’s solicitude for Jerry’s football welfare and 
progress, he began to develop a very healthy grouch 
against the coach. He had always more or less re- 
sented Mr. Thome’s authority and what he called his 
dictatorial ways, although this season he had done it 
secretly. Now his resentment found fresh fuel and 
became audible that evening. He made a mistake, 
however, in choosing Hal Mansfield for an audience. 

The captain, though he was beginning to suspect the 
coach of usurping more authority than was necessary, 
and had once or twice shown restiveness, was of no 
mind for treason. And so Jordan learned quickly 
enough. Mansfield descended verbally on his room- 
mate like a ton of bricks and reduced him to glowering 
silence. But, the next evening, Jordan found a more 
sympathetic audience over in Ellicot House, where Gus 
Ashley and Furchgott roomed. There his resentment 
was given rein and his remarks were applauded. 
Furchgott, a disgruntled critic of the coach and the 
system in general, egged him on and agreed with all 
he said. Ashley, who had nothing to be disgruntled 
about, was nevertheless sympathetic. He had been 
one of the leading malcontents last season and he 
made no pretense this year of any loyalty to the coach. 
He played a good game at right half, just good 
enough, it seemed, to make him certain of the position. 
He could be brilliant at times, and had done excellent 

132 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 


work in the Cumbridge contest last fall, but so far 
this season he had failed to show anything exceptional. 
He had a very good idea of his importance to the 
team and managed to impress others with it, not a 
difficult task, perhaps, for the reason that he was a 
large, well-built, good-looking fellow who fairly radi- 
ated health and capability. 

“What makes me mad,” said Jordan finally, “is his 
taking a rank outsider like Benson, a fellow who 
never saw a football until a month ago, I reckon, and 
making all this fuss about him. Maybe he can kick 
a ball fairly well, but so can two or three others. 
What’s the big idea in pulling Benson in and trying 
to teach him all about football in a couple of weeks? 
It’s unfair to the rest of us. Gee, I’ve worked hard 
all season, haven’t I? Sure, I have! And all I get 
for it is the bench now that this towhead tarheel takes 
Thorne’s fancy! It’s sickening!” 

“Sure is,” agreed Ashley. 

“Oh, Thorne’s like that,” said Furchgott. “He goes 
off half-cocked every little while, and always did. 
Look at last year and the rotten mess he got into about 
McMeens.” 

Ashley laughed. “Yes, but he won out, just the 
same. Omstead made good in the end. I think 
Thorne’s a pill, but I’ll say he usually knows his busi- 
ness. Might as well be fair when it doesn’t cost any- 
thing.” 

“That sounds funny from you,” objected Jordan. 
“You’re always running Thorne down.” 

133 


KICK FORMATION 


“Sure. That’s all right. He makes me tired. I 
don’t like him, and I reckon he knows it. He’d have 
me off in no time if there was any one else to put in 
my place.” Ashley chuckled. “There isn’t, though, 
and I’ll bet it makes him good and sore sometimes !” 

“Better watch out he doesn’t give your job to Ben- 
son,” growled Jordan. “Any one can see that he 
means to get Benson in somewhere.” 

Ashley smiled derisively. “He knows better,” he 
said. “I’ll tell you what he wants Benson for. We’re 
shy on punters, and that’s no joke. Du veen’s rotten 
and Keller’s not much better. Tub’s all right on a 
short kick, but he can’t get any distance. Jim can get 
distance but he kicks too low and he never knows 
where the old ball’s going to land. No more does 
any one else! Well, this chap Benson’s got the legs: 
you can see that ; and he’s easy-going and good-natured 
and Thorne can work him like a mule. He’s gone and 
promised Benson all sorts of things, I reckon: told 
him he can have a place and get his letters and all 
that if he will try hard. And Benson believes him and 
will work his silly head off. Well, all Thorne wants 
of him is a few good punts in the big game. Oh, he 
will get his letters all right, I reckon, but that’s all he 
will get. He won’t get placed. Thorne’ll just jolly 
him along. Why, shucks, you know mighty well he 
isn’t going to let Jack Omstead go. And you know 
he wouldn’t dare let me go. And there you are!” 

“That’s all right,” said Jordan, “but it doesn’t do 
me much good to be told that you and Omstead are 
134 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 

sure of your places! Where do I get off? No one 
takes me out and gives me private instruction ! Why, 
they say he's got Benson practicing punting at all hours ! 
Corben says he was out this forenoon over on the 
second team gridiron punting for more than an hour!" 
Jordan's scowl changed to a crafty and ill-natured 
grin. “If I was you, Gus, I wouldn't be so plumb 
sure of my job!" 

Ashley frowned. “Oh, forget it, Peevish! Trouble 
with you is you can't stand seeing any one else get 
anything. As a matter of fact, this guy Benson plays 
as good a game as you do this minute. Put that in 
your pipe, old dear, and smoke it!" 

Jordan choked and sputtered. “Is that so? Well, 
it isn't! Benson's a dub, that’s all he is! He falls 
over his own feet! You're sore because I told you 
something to make you think. Benson’ll get either 
your place or Omstead's before the season's over, and 
I wouldn't be so awfully surprised if it was yours! 
I don't see you setting the world on fire, either, Ashley ! 
You've been soldiering all fall and Thorne's on to you, 
if you want to know the truth! Take a tip from me 
and get a hump on !" 

Ashley only laughed exasperatingly. “You'll never 
get anywhere, Peevish, until you learn to control that 
rotten temper of yours," he drawled. “Don't trouble 
about me and my position. I'll look out for that. 
Better buckle down to your own job, son, and then you 
won't have to worry over Benson or come around 
here shooting off your mouth about Thome. Why 
135 


KICK FORMATION 


don’t you go and say some of the things to him? No 
one here can help you.” 

“I will mighty quick if he keeps on ” 

“Yes, you will!” 

“Cut out the yapping, you fellows,” said Furchgott. 
“If a lot of us fellows stood together instead of 
squabbling we could show Thorne where to get off.” 

“How do you mean?” asked Jordan. 

“Well, now, suppose Gus wanted to help you a bit. 
And suppose this fellow Benson gets in with him some 
day. Mean to tell me Gus couldn’t show him up? 
Sure he could?” 

“Sort of sabotage idea?” laughed Ashley, his good 
humor restored. “Gum his plays and all that?” 

“Sure. Why not? Who’s going to know?” 

“Thorne, for one, and Benson for another,” drawled 
Ashley. “You’re sick in the head, Furchy!” 

“You don’t need to do it when it’ll show, Gus. Bet 
you I could make him wish he had never butted in! 
And Thome wouldn’t be any the wiser. Why, say, 
take a novice like Benson and you can make him look 
like a goat in five minutes! Take the double pass, for 
instance. You pass him the ball a second too soon or 
too late, and see where he comes out. Thorne lays 
him wide open!” 

“And Benson says 'Ashley didn’t pass the ball right !’ 
Oh, yes, that’s a brilliant scheme, I think not!” 

“Benson wouldn’t,” said Jordan eagerly. “He isn’t 
the sort. He wouldn’t know enough to, either.” 

“That’s right,” agreed Furchgott. “And there are 
136 


1 


JORDAN LOSES HIS TEMPER 


lots of ways of making him look like a piker, Gus, 
slathers of them !” 

Ashley chuckled. “Sounds amusing/' he said. 
“Don’t know why I should, though, because Peevish 
isn’t any friend of mine.” He grinned across at Jor- 
dan. “He says rude things to me.” 

Jordan scowled. “You began it,” he muttered. 

“Oh, well, we’re only talking,” said Ashley. “After 
all, Benson isn’t dangerous. I’ll give him a week to 
show it. Just as soon as Thorne sees that he can’t do 
anything except punt you’ll get back into favor, Peev- 
ish. Of course, I don’t say that if he and I were to 

work together some day ” Ashley paused and 

smiled gently. “Well, it isn’t easy for backs to work 
together at first. Benson might make a mess of it, 
and that’s a fact.” 

Furchgott grinned. “If you don’t want him playing 
alongside you, Gus, I’ll bet you can fix it so he won’t ! 
I know I could!” 

“Don’t you fellows get away with the idea that I’d 
do anything underhanded,” said Ashley sternly. “And 
don’t go out of here and do a lot of talking. Some- 
body like Thorne might hear and believe it. Anyway, 
he might get to looking for — for something queer, and 
if he did” — Ashley shrugged — “why, there wouldn’t 
be anything, naturally. And poor old Peevish would 
just go right on keeping the bench warm. Get me?” 
Both Jordan and Furchgott assured him that they did. 


CHAPTER XIV 


JOE AND TUB ENTERTAIN 

N ORTH BANK played Fernwood on Saturday 
and had a walkover, winning a rather uninter- 
esting contest to the tune of 34 to 9. Fern- 
wood’s 9 represented three field goals, each well- 
deserved. She never got dangerously close to the 
Light Blue’s goal line, although once, in the last period, 
a long forward pass would have resulted in a touch- 
down had it succeeded. That it didn’t was due to 
Jerry Benson, whose long arm shot up and out at the 
last moment and converted a certain catch into a 
fumble. Jerry played some eight minutes of that 
final quarter and comported himself satisfactorily 
enough. He was called on for but one kick, for North 
Bank had no reason to punt when rushing gained 
consistently, and on that occasion, with all the time 
he wanted, he sent the ball soaring both high and far 
and brought murmurs of approval from the stand. 
For the rest, there was nothing spectacular in his play- 
ing. In the confusion of the moment only a very few, 
outside his team mates and the coach, identified him as 
the one who spoiled Femwood’s threatening heave 
from North Bank’s thirty-yard line. 

138 


JOE AND TUB ENTERTAIN 

All of the Light Blue’s scores were made by the 
running game, only two forward passes being at- 
tempted. Of these one made good and one was cap- 
tured by the enemy. Ashley, Duveen and Omstead 
played through the first three periods, even though 
the game was safe at the end of the second. With 
the St. John’s College contest coming a week later,. 
Coach Thome doubtless thought it wise to give the 
regulars a chance to polish up their attack. Tub Keller 
was back at quarter and played his usual good game. 
In the last period the back-field was given to Sears, 
Schurtman, Summerfield, Jordan and Benson. Jerry 
took Jordan’s place when the backs had twice failed 
to gain and, with the ball on North Bank’s thirty-two 
yards, a punt was necessary. Jack Omstead kicked 
every goal after touchdown while he was in, and Sears, 
who tried to turn the last 6 into a 7, failed by only 
a few inches. Although Fernwood proved unex- 
pectedly weak, the game nevertheless gave encourage-) 
ment to North Bank. The Light Blue team showed 
itself fully twenty per cent better than in the Severn 
contest and the work of the linemen was consistently 
good. North Bank wanted mightily to win each of, 
the remaining games on her schedule, those with St. 
John’s College, Brackett’s School and Cumbridge 
Hall, and after the showing made against Fernwood 
to-day most of the fellows felt that the chance of, 
doing so was fairly good. To be sure, St. John’s 
usually conquered, but once in three or four years she 
didn’t, and North Bank saw no reason why this year 
139 


KICK FORMATION 


should not prove one of the occasional exceptions'. As 
to the Brackett’s game there was less doubt. Brackett’s 
always made a hard fight, but the Light Blue almost 
invariably won. In the last five years she had failed 
but once to win, and then the game had been a 6 to 6 
tie. 

The Cumbridge game, whichever team gained the 
final decision, was a bitterly-fought contest from start 
to finish, and seldom did the winner outpoint the op- 
ponent by more than one score. As a usual thing the 
game was not decided until the fourth period; more 
than once during the long series of contests victory 
had been won in the final two or three minutes. Ex- 
perience had proved that predictions were useless re- 
garding the Cumbridge game. The team that looked 
the best before the kick-off frequently left the field 
defeated. Elevens that started the contest hopelessly 
outclassed often emerged the victor. When it came to 
the Cumbridge game, you just never could tell ! Never- 
theless there was a feeling of confidence at North 
Bank this fall that had been sadly lacking last season, 
and after the smoothness shown by linemen, ends and 
backs in the Fernwood game that feeling of confidence 
increased noticeably. There were those who even pre-> 
dieted that for once the Light Blue would win de- 
cisively, and such scores as 20 to o and 27 to 3 were 
spoken of. It was Joe Kirkham who sponsored the 
latter score. 

He and Tub Keller, his roommate, gave a party 
.that Saturday night in Number 6 McCrea, and 
140 


1 


JOE AND TUB ENTERTAIN 

Jerry and Tom were among those invited. Mansfield 
and Jackson and Duveen were also there, and conse- 
quently the gathering possessed a strong football as- 
pect. As a party the affair didn't amount to a great 
deal : crackers and cheese and ginger ale made up the 
list of refreshments. But even such unassuming viands 
are a remarkable aid to sociability and the affair was 
a great success. Of course the afternoon's contest 
was the main subject of conversation and by far the 
most interesting to all, with the possible exception of 
Tom. Tom couldn’t be expected to get terribly ex- 
cited in listening to such “shop talk,” nor was he, but 
he dug cheese from the crockery jar with the blade of 
a penknife and applied it to crackers and, because he 
didn't allow oratory to interfere with more important 
duties, fared somewhat better than the others in one 
regard. Jerry found the conversation both interesting 
and informing. A resume of a football game by those 
who have taken part in it usually brings to light details 
missed by the spectators. Jackson’s account of his 
intimate dealings with one Tappan, right guard on the 
Fernwood team, was enlightening and amusing. 

“He had a nasty way of doubling his right fist and 
landing it in my stomach,” said Jackson. “It's an 
easy trick to get by with and it’s mighty hard on a 
fellow’s wind. I knew that if he kept it up I'd be 
seeing the last half of the game from the bench. Fact 
is, I've got a pretty sore spot there now. He always 
managed to land in about the same place. I tried going 
in side on, but that was what he wanted. When I 

145 


KICK FORMATION 


did that he got me in the ribs, which wasn’t so bad, 
but he side-stepped me and came past me behind, and 
so that wouldn’t do. I was hoping that some one would 
see what was up and make him quit, but he was pretty 
foxy and got away with it nicely. Finally I wondered 
if I could get my knee up high enough and I tried it. 
The first time I wasn’t quick enough, but the next time 
I shot it up just as we charged and he planted his 
fist right on the front of my leg. He was a bit sur- 
prised, I reckon, but maybe he thought it was an acci- 
dent, for he tried it again and I beat him to it and he 
gave a yelp. Reckon he came pretty near to smashing 
his fingers that time. Anyway, he didn’t try it after- 
wards and I had him eating out of my hand.” 

From the game the talk turned to the future and 
Hal Mansfield spoke hopefully of the Cumbridge af- 
fair. Then it was that Joe became optimistic and 
daring. “Listen, Hal,” he said. “We’re going to eat 
’em up this year. You mark my words. Say, I’ll bet 
you we run up a real score on them. I wouldn’t be 
surprised if we licked them 28 to o; or, say, 27 to 3. 
I’ll allow them a field goal, and we might miss one 
try.” 

Murmurs of incredulity greeted him and Mansfield 
shook his head gently, in the manner of an indulgent 
parent. 

“I rather think we’ve got a good chance to beat them 
this year, Joke,” he said, “but it won’t be any Water- 
loo.” 

“No, Cumbridge always fights,” agreed Jim Duveen. 

142 


JOE AND TUB ENTERTAIN 


“One score to none will satisfy me. Not that it 
wouldn't do me a lot of good to lick her hard, though. 
Gee, I’d die happy if we could pile up a real score 
on her! Think of forty to nothing, fellows!" 

“No such luck," sighed Tub Keller. “Not ever! 
I'd be almost willing to give a leg if we could just 
absotively overwhelm Cumbridge once ! Wouldn't 
it be corking if Thorne could think up some play that 
would fool her? Say an end-running trick that would 
shoot Omstead or Ashley around for good long gains. 
I don't suppose, though, that there are any new plays 
to think up. I know I've tried for hours at a time 
to hit on one." 

“Thorne doesn't believe in plays," said Captain 
Mansfield a trifle gloomily. 

“How do you mean?" Jackson demanded. 

“He said the other day when we were talking about 
plays that they don't win games, that it's the player 
and not the plays that count. His idea is that if the 
team is good enough it can win with the simplest sort 
of stuff." 

“Well, I reckon that's so," said Tub. “Just the 
same " 

“It stands to reason, doesn't it,” Jackson demanded, 
“that no matter how good the team may be, a good 
play's a heap better than a poor one? Thorne’s a 
crank on simple plays. Seems to think we haven't the 
brains to learn anything more complicated than a 
straight buck!" 

“Thorne knows you fellows better than you know 

143 


KICK FORMATION 


yourselves,” remarked Tom, scraping the bottom of 
the cheese jar. 

“I don’t know whether that’s his idea exactly,” ob- 
served Joe, “but it’s a fact that teams often have too 
many plays and can’t get them off smoothly when the 
time comes. I remember seeing ” 

“No one said anything about too many,” objected 
Duveen. “What we need are some more puzzling 
ones. There isn’t a thing in our bag yet that would 
fool a high school team!” 

“Thorne says a simple play well executed is a lot 
better than a complicated one that doesn’t come off 
right,” said Mansfield. “Of course, that’s true, but 
I’d like to have about four crackajacks that would 
make Cumbridge sit up. From the looks of things now 
we’ll have about fifteen plays for each side of the line 
and two forward-pass plays. Maybe that’s enough, 
but they’re all mighty — well, primitive.” 

“Primitive is right,” agreed Jackson. “We used 
some of those plays when I was in grammar school.” 

“Did you win with them?” inquired Tom, setting 
down Tub’s ginger ale bottle, empty. 

“Sure did!” 

“What’s the kick, then? Looks to me as if a win- 
ning play was good enough for any one 1” 

“Tom, you don’t know anything about football,” 
retorted Tub, glancing sadly at his private bottle, “so 
shut up.” 

“I don’t see why Thorne doesn’t try another forma- 
tion,” said Duveen. “It’s mighty easy for the other 
144 


JOE AND TUB ENTERTAIN 


fellow to guess your plays if they all start from the 
same back-field layout. We’ve been using this three- 
men-abreast formation ever since Thorne started here 
as coach.” 

“Well, I don’t think much of changing formations 
every other time,” said Tub. “Some teams go dippy 
on shifts, but I don’t see that it gets them any more. 
I like sticking to one formation for the reason that 
you don’t give a play away. Some coaches line up the 
backs one way for running plays and another way 
for line bucks and still another for forward passes. 
And every time they change the enemy knows that 
something different’s coming. It’s a plain advertise- 
ment, to my mind.” 

“What we need is a corking good forward pass,” 
said Mansfield. “I don’t mean one of those impossible 
things that cover about thirty yards and are caught 
once in ten times, but a good heave for, say, ten or 
fifteen that’ll make good nine times out of ten.” 

“If you had a play like that,” commented Tub, “you’d 
win every game. No forward pass will succeed more 
than half the time.” 

“Well, that’s because no one’s thought out a good 
one,” said Mansfield. “That short heave over the 
center is all right when it goes, but teams are watching 
for it now and you’ve got about one chance in six of 
getting into position for it. The backs are watching 
you every time, and if you try to get behind center 
they’re on you. Even if you reach position the chance 
is that the throw will go wrong. There ought to be 

145 


KICK FORMATION 


a good forward to the side with the catcher well 
guarded. There was a time when an end or a half 
could sneak out and take a pass and get away with 
it, but these days the opponent watches you the way 
a cat watches a mouse.” 

“I’d rather see a good line-smashing play,” said 
Joe. “Folks are dippy about forward passes, and 
about all they do is slow up the game. Get about eight 
rattling good line bucks and end runs and put a nice 
punter in the back-field and you’ll go ahead.” 

“Why don’t you fellows quit trying to run the team 
and play your positions?” inquired Tom amiably. 
“Maybe that might win games for you. Seems to me 
if I was a football player I’d forget everything but 
the fellow I was up against and I’d do my level best 
to make him look like a piker.” 

Rather to Jerry’s surprise, a noticeable silence 
greeted this remark, a silence first broken by Tub 
Keller. 

“Tom, I believe you said something that time. Not 
that I mean to insinuate that you fellows don’t play 
your positions for all that’s in them, but I’ve sometimes 
thought that the effort after team play makes a fellow 
lose sight of — well, the individual, if you see what I 
mean.” 

“Can’t say I do,” replied Mansfield. “Tom’s sug- 
gestion struck me as rather sensible, though, because 
I know that for my part I’m likely to think too much 
about the — the — what you might call the conduct of 
the game and too little about my personal duties.” 

146 


JOE AND TUB ENTERTAIN 


‘That’s because you’re captain,” said Joe. “What 
the others are doing never troubles me. I put my mind 
on outplaying the fellow in front of me. That’s the 
only way you can outplay him.” 

“That’s sort of what I meant,” said Tub. “There 
ought always to be a personal rivalry between opposing 
players. I don’t mean that a fellow ought to try to 
play the game alone. He’s got to help out the others. 
Teamwork comes first of all, of course. But, beyond 
that, if he says to himself : ‘You Mister Enemy, I’m 
going to make you look like a half portion of nothing 
before this game’s much older/ he’s going to play 
better and harder.” 

“When you get to talking psychology,” said Duveen, 
yawning, “it’s time for decent folks to go home. When 
it’s all said and done the team that wins is the team 
that plays the better game. Let’s take Tom Hartley’s 
tip and stop trying to run things to suit ourselves. 
Thorne’s being paid a good salary to coach us. Let’s 
leave that end of it to him and put all our time and 
energy into playing guard or full back or whatever it 
is we’re supposed to be playing. Coming over, Hal?” 

“Yes,” replied the captain. “I guess you’re right l 
too, Jim. We’ll just take the plays that Thorne gives 
us and make them go hard ! And if we do we’ll show 
that bunch of sneak thieves how it feels to take part 
in a game of real football ! Good-night, fellows !” 


CHAPTER XV 


CONSPIRATORS 

T OM lingered after Mansfield and Duveen and 
Jackson had gone, and of course Jerry waited 
for him. Jerry, who had played the role of audi- 
ence all the evening, now hazarded a question. “Who 
did he mean when he said we’d show those thieves how 
to play?” he asked. 

“Hal? He was referring to our hated enemy, Cum- 
bridge Hall School,” replied Joe. “I think his exact 
word, though, was ‘sneak thieves/ Jerry.” 

Jerry continued to look puzzled. “Sounds like they 
was sort of trifling,” he said. “What’s he got against 
them, Joe?” 

“Against Cumbridge? Nothing much, I guess. 
When we get excited we’re likely to rake up old scores, 
and ‘sneak thief* is a sort of pet name for those fel- 
lows.” 

“I don’t believe Jerry knows about that,” said Tub 
Keller. “Ever hear about the football they swiped 
from us ?” Jerry shook his head. “Well, it was three 
years ago and it’s rather an old story now. I don’t 
believe we’ve ever forgiven them, though. You’ve 
148 


CONSPIRATORS 


been in the Trophy Room in the gym, I suppose. Ever 
notice an empty space in the line of footballs? Well, 
there is one. It’s where the 1915 ball hung. Cum- 
bridge has it now.” 

“How come?” asked Jerry interestedly. 

“Swiped it,” said Joe. “You see, we won that game 
by the biggest margin we’d ever piled up against the 
Dark Blue — 24 to 2, it was. Cumbridge got a safety 
and that was all. We played at Holly that year and 
we brought the old pigskin back with us and gilded it 
as usual and painted the score on it and hung it in the 
case in the Trophy Room. I guess we sort of rubbed 
it in about that score.” 

“Sure did!” chuckled Tom. “Remember the song 
we used to sing?” 

Pile up the score, boys ! 

Make old Cumbridge sore, boys! 

Another twenty-four, boys! 

We’re going to win to-day! 

“Yes, and some of the fellows went over to Holly 
one Saturday night about a week after the game and 
printed the figures on the gate post. I guess that made 
Cumbridge sorer than all! It was rather raw and 
Cumbridge faculty raised the dickens and three of the 
fellows came mighty near being fired. They had to 
sign a written apology and go on probation, too. One 
of them was Haskell, our best basketball player, and 
we got licked all through January.” Joe sighed at 
the degrading memory. 


149 


KICK FORMATION 


“Well, I ain’t heard how those fellers got the foot-j 
ball,” Jerry reminded. 

“Oh ! That was the next spring. In May, I think. 
We played Cumbridge here, the first game of the series, 
and a lot of fellows came over with the team. They 
licked us that day. I don’t remember the score. That 
was all right, but the next day we found that the 19151 
football was missing. Of course we knew that Cum- 
bridge had stolen it, but we couldn’t prove anything. 
Faculty here took it up with Cumbridge faculty and 
Cumbridge faculty said they’d investigate. Maybe 
they did, but we never got the ball back.” 

“Didn’t the football captain get a letter or some- 
thing?” asked Tom. 

“Yes, two or three days later. It was just a sheet 
of paper with 'Come and get it’ printed on it. But 
it was posted in Annapolis and didn’t prove anything. 
Lots of Cumbridge fellows still swear that they never 
saw the football and that Cumbridge didn’t swipe it.” 

“Maybe she didn’t,” suggested Jerry. 

“Don’t you believe it,” replied Tom. “She took it 
and she’s still got it. You see, they’ve got a sort of 

secret society over there called What do they call 

it, Joe?” 

“Brothers of the Owl.” 

“Yes. Of course it’s sort of a joke. I mean it isn’t 
really a society, just a name to tack mischief on. We 
think two or three fellows did the stunt. Got into 
the Trophy Room during the baseball game and un- 
locked the case. They hadn’t damaged anything. 

150 


CONSPIRATORS 


Probably not more than a half dozen ever saw the ball 
after they got it. They say that the football captain 
keeps it and hands it on to the next fellow that’s elected. 
Then again there was a Brackett’s school chap who 
told Lord last year that he went over to Cumbridge 
with his baseball team and a fellow over there showed 
him the football in the trophy case. You can believe 
what you like.” 

“Didn’t any one ever try to get it back?” asked 
Jerry. 

“Did they! It got so that spring that faculty had 
to make a rule that any fellow found going to Holly 
would be fired ! I guess we made about a dozen tries 
for that old ball. There was a regular free fight in 
June that year when we played a return game there. 
Some of our fellows tried to get into the trophy case. 
Cumbridge had three or four fellows on guard ,and 
there was a riot. Lory Browne had both eyes blacked ^ 
and two or three more of our bunch got beaten up 
for fair. Afterwards we heard that the ball wasn’t 
in the trophy case at all, that they’d put guards there 
for fear we’d try to even things up by swiping one 
of their trophies.” 

“I heard,” said Tom, “that they had the 1915 foot- 
ball for a centerpiece at their banquet last year.” 

“You hear all sorts of things,” responded Tub. “I 
heard that they got scared when faculty was busy and 
destroyed it. Anyhow, no one from here has ever seen 
it, and I guess no one ever will.” 

“Last year,” chuckled Joe, “Howard Castle con- 

151 


KICK FORMATION 


ceived the brilliant idea of getting revenge by stealing 
the ball after the game. Cumbridge won, you know, 
Jerry, and the minute the last whistle sounded Howard 
grabbed the ball from the quarter back and sprinted 
for the gym. There was a great hullabaloo, with every 
Cumbridge player hiking after him, and the referee 
and Coach Thorne and a couple of the faculty butting 
in, and the rest of us toddling along to see the fun. 
Howard reached the gym all right and locked himself 
up in the director’s room, and the Cumbridge gang 
tried to break the door down and there were four or 
five nice little scraps going on all at once. Then Bob 
Logan, First Class President, and Hilltower and a 
couple of other fellows — you were one, weren’t you, 
Tom? — persuaded Howard to come out. The rest 
of us >stood around and groaned. Howard meant all 
right, but that wasn’t the ball we wanted. He said 
afterwards that his idea was to exchange it for the 
one Cumbridge had.” 

“A mighty good idea, too,” commented Tub. 
“Logan was a pill to spoil it.” 

Back in Number 7 Baldwin, Jerry reverted again 
to the subject. “Where you reckon those fellers keep 
that ball, Tom?” he asked. 

“Search me. Somewhere we’ll never find it.” 

“If a fellow knew, I reckon it wouldn’t be hard to 
get it,” mused Jerry. 

“Thinking about trying it?” Tom yawned and be- 
gan to unlace his shoes. “Better not, son. Faculty’ll 
get you sure.” 


152 


CONSPIRATORS 


‘That rule about fellers going over yonder still hold 
good?” asked Jerry. 

Tom considered. “Well, no, I guess it doesn’t. 
Anyhow, plenty of us have been over since then on 
peaceable errands. Still, I don’t believe faculty would 
hesitate to resurrect it if they had a chance!” 

Jerry was silent for several minutes, undressing 
leisurely. Then: “Whereat’ s this place they keep 
their footballs and things?” he inquired. 

“Cumbridge? There’s a sort of alcove upstairs in 
School Hall. That’s their recitation building. There 
are two big cases there, one on each side of this alcove. 
They keep a lot of banners and baseballs and footballs 
in them. I was up there once. It was the day we 
beat them 24 to 2. I didn’t pay much attention to 
their old trinkets, though.” 

“What’s this ball like they stole from us?” 

“Oh, like the other balls over in the Trophy Room. 
Gilded, you know, with the score painted on it, and 
the date, in light blue and dark blue. Now don’t go 
to trying any funny business, Jerry. Better fellows 
than you have gone after that ball and failed. All 
you’ll get will be a long, hard look from faculty!” 

Jerry blinked his very blue eyes. “Seems like if it 
belongs to us we’d ought to have it,” he said mildly. 
“Reckon it ain’t a crime to take back what’s been 
stolen from you.” 

“I never said it was,” answered Tom, slipping 
into bed. “But that isn’t the question. The ques- 

153 


KICK FORMATION 


tion is what faculty would do to you if they found out 
about it !” 

Jerry pondered that a moment. Finally, “J ust the 
same, Tom,” he said, shaking his head, “it ain't right 
they should keep that ball.” 

“Lots of things aren’t right,” replied Tom un- 
troubledly. “For instance, it isn’t right for you to go 
to sleep on your feet there instead of going to bed 
and putting the light out. How about my beauty 
sleep?” 

Jerry proceeded with his disrobing. 

“Reckon,” he said dryly, “you-all ought to get a 
sight more sleep than you do !” 

Just why the project of recovering the stolen foot- 
ball should have intrigued Jerry’s mind as it did all 
the next day is not clear. In a way, the affair was 
none of his business, for he was only a newcomer at 
North Bank, and the older fellows had apparently 
reconciled themselves to the indignity perpetrated by 
their old-time rival. But Jerry thought a good deal 
on the subject and pestered Tom for information the 
latter couldn’t supply. 

There was a party at the Cabin the next evening — 
evening in Maryland, as in the rest of the South, be- 
gins after the midday meal — and the invited guests 
were Tom, Joe and Ted Ingraham. Ted had been 
over twice during the week, though practice had kept 
Jerry from seeing him for more than a few minutes 
on either occasion. To-day the quartet started out at 
a little after four and at five were replenishing the 
154 


CONSPIRATORS 


wood box beside the little sheet-iron stove, and at half- 
past six were reveling in the standard repast of ham 
and eggs and sweet potatoes. Coming back in the late 
twilight, with a young moon hung over the river, 
Jerry attached himself to Ted Ingraham and let Tom 
and Joe walk well ahead. As neither of the latter had 
taken much to Ted on this first meeting they were sat- 
isfied with the arrangement, although Tom once or 
twice turned to observe the dawdling pair. 

“Wonder what Jerry sees in that chap,” he grumbled 
on one occasion. “Can't say I like the duffer much. 
They're jabbering away back there like a couple of 
long-lost brothers.” 

“Oh, Jerry likes every one,” replied Joe. “Mr. 
Thorne was telling the other night about running across 
Jerry on the way from Washington the day he came. 
Seems that there was a dog in a crate on the platform 
out at Academy Junction and a lot of soldiers from 
the camp were trying to make him drink tonic. They 
poured the stuff in his drinking dish and Jerry almost 
lost the train putting fresh water back in it.” 

“Yes, he told me something about that, although I 
gathered that it was Thorne who gave the water to 
the pup. Jerry's mighty close-mouthed when he wants 
to be.” 

“He sure is. He didn't tell any one he'd pulled 
Ingraham out of the river once, either. Maybe he's 
sort of ashamed of it, though. I don't think he res- 
cued much !” 

“Well,” laughed Tom, “maybe the fellow's all right 
155 


KICK FORMATION 


when you get to know him better. One hopeful thing 
was the reason he gave at supper this evening for not 
wanting to come here to school. Said he wouldn’t mind 
if Purves Jordan wasn’t here!” 

“Yes, that shows discernment,” commented Joe. “If 
Jerry has his way, though, he will come. Faculty 
ought to put him on a commission basis and send him 
out after students. He was plumb convincing! If I 
was Ingraham I’d be entering North Bank to-morrow !” 

“Maybe that’s what he’s talking about so earnestly 
back there,” said Tom. “If he is I’ll bet he will have 
Ingraham nailed by the time we get back!” 

But Jerry was talking of quite another matter, and 
although he was using persuasion, no great amount of 
it was necessary, for Ted was an easy victim to Jerry’s 
eloquence, and when they parted the plans of a deep- 
dyed conspiracy had been laid. 

Followed for Jerry a most hectic week, a week of 
morning punting practice, of afternoon work with the 
squad followed by special instruction from Coach 
Thorne or “Jump” Tibbs or both of them. Jerry was 
taught to throw forward passes and to catch them, to 
take the ball direct from the center, Corben, the sub- 
stitute pivot man being requisitioned to aid. Jerry 
progressed, although to him it seemed that progress 
was discouragingly slow. Yet, on the whole, the 
coaches appeared satisfied. More than once warm 
commendation rewarded his efforts and he tramped 
tiredly over to the gymnasium aglow with the inner 
warmth that comes of a knowledge of work well done. 

156 


CONSPIRATORS 


Yet of course there were discouraging moments. 
Sometimes his punts went agley, sometimes forward- 
passed balls slipped through his clutching fingers, some- 
times he mixed his signals. One thing he didn’t do, 
however, was miss tackles. It seemed that when he 
had once laid a hand on a runner that runner had 
never a chance of further advance. He tackled hard 
and he tackled surely, and that was much in a back- 
field where loose tackling had been the coach’s bugaboo 
all the season. 

On the offense Jerry was not setting the world afire. 
He worked as hard as he knew how and, once through 
the line, he could outdodge the opposing back-field 
nine times out of ten, but he was too light to have much 
effect as a plunger. He was still plainly but a substi- 
tute, with Omstead and Gray disputing the left half 
position with him, Omstead very successfully, Gray 
more precariously. Jordan was clearly no longer to 
be reckoned with by the end of that week. The daily 
scrimmage lasted now for thirty full minutes of actual 
play, divided into two fifteen-minute periods, and al- 
most inevitably Jerry saw action for ten of those thirty. 
Sometimes he was run in in the first period when a 
punt was badly needed, but usually he started the sec- 
ond or relieved Gray before it was very old. Not 
infrequently he was popped in and out as the coach’s 
whim decided, running through a play and then punt- 
ing and trotting off again, or taking part in a five-man 
forward pass as one of the receivers. But always he 
saw service, and always, returning to the bench, he 
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KICK FORMATION 


received scowls and black looks from Purves Jordan. 
However, Jordan’s evidences of animosity troubled 
him no whit. He had long since learned that success 
on the gridiron held the penalty of jealousy, for he 
had observed more than one instance. Usually envy 
and jealousy were carefully hidden, but now and then 
they showed their ugly heads. Every position on the 
team had more than one claimant and the rivalry was 
keen and intense, purposely made so by the coaches. 
Perhaps it was not to be wondered at that disappoint- 
ment sometimes found expression. Usually, though, 
animosities born on the field died in the gymnasium, 
drowned perhaps in the cleansing flood of the shower. 
Purves Jordan, however, treasured his ill feeling and 
cherished it, and on Friday night he took his woes 
over to Ellicot House and displayed them to the sym- 
pathetic gaze of Gus Ashley, with results quite out of 
proportion to them. 

Most of the school went over the river to Annapolis 
the next day and paraded along College Avenue with 
light blue banners proudly flaunting and North Bank 
cheers awaking the echoes of that quiet town. Because 
the Naval Academy team had journeyed from home 
that day, football-loving Annapolis thronged to the St. 
John’s field and surrounded the dusty gridiron ten 
deep. It would be pleasing to narrate how North Bank 
took revenge for a multiplicity of defeats that day, 
but history would prove me wrong. North Bank scored 
once when a fortunate fumble by a cadet gave her the 
ball on St. John’s twenty- four yards and, when Duveen 

158 


CONSPIRATORS 


and Ashley had each failed to more than dent the 
purple-and-orange line, Jack Omstead slipped away 
around his right end and planted the pigskin just over 
the line in the corner of the field. Omstead failed at 
goal from a hard angle — the punt-out was no longer 
in fashion — and North Bank had to make the most of 
those six points. It was perhaps fortunate for her 
that she cheered her loudest and best then, for never 
again while the contest lasted did she have much ex- 
cuse for enthusiasm. To be sure, the Light Blue team 
did put up a good defense, and it fought unwaveringly 
to the last second, .but the local warriors scored thrice 
after that first slip-up and converted one of the touch- 
downs into a goal. The final score was overwhelm- 
ingly purple-and-orange, 19 to 6, and North Bank's 
progress back to the railway station, while it w£s far 
from quiet, lacked ecstasy. 

The best that can be said of such a defeat is that 
it teaches its lessons, and the St. John’s contest was 
no exception. It taught Coach Thorne and Coach 
Tibbs, who, when not engaged in priming the second 
team to overwhelm the first, acted as &ti assistant 
coach, that there was such a thing as sacrificing speed 
for weight in a back-field and that a back who didn’t 
reach the line until the opponent had sized up the play 
had very little chance of making a gain ! Perhaps there 
were other lessons learned that day, too, but that was 
the big one, and on Monday, when the last fortnight 
preceding the Cumbridge game began, Coach Thorne 
showed that he intended to profit by it. 


CHAPTER XVI 


IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP 

J ERRY fully intended learning how to swim just 
as soon as he could find the time, but the time 
wasn’t likely to come before spring, and so, hav- 
ing no desire for a watery grave, he got Ted Ingraham 
on the telephone Sunday noon and asked him to come 
over after dinner. Ted would have talked at some 
length over the wire, but Jerry unceremoniously cut 
him off. Ted appeared at the float about half -past 
two and Jerry was waiting for him. The afternoon 
was sunny, but a brisk breeze quartered the river and 
Ted had wisely added a white woolen sweater to his 
usual canoeing costume. A brief glance at his face 
would have confirmed Jerry’s suspicion that the jour- 
ney to Holly had been rewarded with success, had 
Jerry required confirmation. But he didn’t, and it 
was not until the grinning and triumphant Ted had 
shot the craft well away from the school landing that 
he asked : 

“Did you find it?” 

Ted chuckled. “Sure! Easy as falling off a log! 
Say, those fellows over there swallowed everything, 
160 


IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP 


hook, line and sinker ! They never once suspected me ! 
I was all over the school, and they invited me to din- 
ner — only I didn’t go because I thought it would be 
kind of a low-down trick — and I saw the game with 
Bayside and everything ! Had a bully seat at the game, 
right in the cheering section; and if you fellows think 
you’re going to have an easy time beating Cumbridge, 
why, just let me tell you ” 

“Never mind that,” interrupted Jerry rudely, 
“What about that football? Did you see it? Do you 
know where it is?” 

“Sure I saw it! And, say, they certainly played a 
cute trick ! Why, I’ll bet a lot of North Bank fellows 
have looked right at it and never knew it !” 

“Well, where is it?” demanded Jerry impatiently. 

“Why, it’s ” Ted stopped and chuckled again. 

Jerry began to think him the most exasperating fellow 
he had ever known! “No, I’ll start right at the be- 
ginning,” continued Ted, “and tell everything just as 
it happened. That’ll be better, eh ?” 

Jerry groaned. “I don’t care how you tell it if you’ll 
just tell it,” he answered. 

“I’m trying to, aren’t I?” asked Ted aggrievedly. 
“Gee, you want everything at once!” He laid his 
paddle across the thwarts and settled himself com- 
fortably on his spine while Jerry directed the bow of 
the canoe toward a sunny cove near by. “I got over 
there at a little after eleven and went right uptown. 
It isn’t much of a place. Ever been there?” 

Jerry shook his head patiently. 

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KICK FORMATION 


“It's just a little villa ge,” Ted proceeded. “There 
were four fellows in a drug store and I reckoned they 
were Cumbridge chaps and so I went in and asked the 
clerk where the school was. He told me to go straight 
on about a half mile and I could see that the fellows 
were kind of sizing me up. I bought a soda and after 
a bit one of them asked me if I’d come for the game. 
I asked him what game he meant and he told me and 
I said no, I’d come to see a fellow named Rogers. He 
said did I mean Tod Rogers and I said no, I meant 
Charley Rogers ” 

“That 'wasn’t the name,” interjected Jerry. 

“I know, but I couldn’t remember the one you told 
me. It was too hard, anyway.” 

“Was there a Charley Rogers there?” 

“Wait till I tell you. 'We’re going back/ said this 
fellow. 'You come along and we’ll show you where 
his room is.’ I ’most choked on my soda, Jerry ! 'Does 
he come from Baltimore ?’ I asked. Well, none of them 
knew whether he did or not, but they said he was 
sort of a skinny chap with light hair and a lot of 
freckles, and I said I was afraid he wasn’t the right 
one. So then I treated to sodas — you owe me thirty 
cents on those ” 

“Hold on! Five sodas at ten cents apiece is only 
fifty cents, and half of fifty ” 

“Six,” corrected Ted. “I had one by myself and 
one with the Cumbridge chaps. I had to get friendly 
with them, didn’t I?” 

“All right. Then what?” 

162 


IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP 


“Well, I made out that this Charley Rogers came 
from Baltimore, which was my home, and told a long 
string about him. Said I hadn’t seen him since spring 
and that he’d told me then that he was going to Cum- 
bridge this fall. I let them think I’d come from Balti- 
more that morning, but I didn’t say so. No use of 
lying, was there? Well, we went out to the school 
together, pretty chummy, and a couple of the fellows 
named Stanwood and Corey took me to the Office and 
a man there looked up the Rogerses. There were three 
of them, but there didn’t any of them come from Balti- 
more. I let on I was mighty disappointed and said 
something about getting a train, and Corey said why 
didn’t I wait and see the football game. He said it 
was too bad I’d had the journey for nothing. Well, 
I thought awhile and then said I reckoned I might 
as well. So they took me to their room and we had a 
long talk. They wanted to know what school I was 
at and I told them I wasn’t going to school but was 
thinking about it after Christmas, which wasn’t any 
lie. So then they said I’d ought to come there, and 
first thing I knew, I was being shown all over the 
shop.” 

“I made out I was awfully pleased with the place 
and they kept dragging me around. I saw the gym- 
nasium and the field and the three dormitories and 
finally they took me back to the building where the 
Office is, which they call School Hall, and we looked 
into some of the classrooms and a big room with a 
stage at one end of it, and then they took me upstairs 
163 


KICK FORMATION 


to one of their society rooms — I forget the name of 
it — and introduced me to a bunch of fellows, and told 
them maybe I’d be coming to Cumbridge in January, 
and I didn't deny it. 

"Well, by that time it was getting pretty close to 
dinner time and I hadn’t found out anything about 
the football, and so I thought I’d better drop a hint. 
There were a lot of pennants and photographs on the 
walls up there, photographs of football and baseball 
and track teams, and I got to looking at them and 
asked if they played baseball much; said I meant to 
try for the nine if I went there. Of course that started 
them off again, and pretty soon one of the fellows 
asked if they’d shown me the trophies. So they took 
me out in the corridor where there was a sort of space 
at one side with a table and chairs and two big cases 
with glass doors. One of the cases had a bunch of 
banners at the back and a lot of baseballs painted all 
sorts of colors in front, and Stanwood told me a lot 
of yarns about the track teams and the nines. Then 
they took me over to the other case and that was filled 
with footballs. They were all painted dark blue and 
had the scores on them in other colors, mostly white 
and light blue. Most of them were balls from North 
Bank games, you see, and they’d have ‘C. H. 10/ or 
whatever the score was, in white, and *N. B. 6 ,’ maybe, 
in light blue. Must have been more than a dozen of 
those there. They said they’d won more games than 
North Bank had, and did a lot of blowing, and I made 
believe I was mighty interested. Corey said they’d 
164 


IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP 


have another ball there in a week and I said I reck- 
oned they would. But all the time I kept looking and 
looking, and pretty soon I saw one ball that didn’t 
look quite like the others. The lettering was sort of 
uneven and both scores were done in white, and there 
wasn’t any date on it.” 

“Was it the one?” asked Jerry eagerly. 

“Sure! I asked what year that game was played, 
and they all laughed, and Corey said ‘Nineteen-fifteen,’ 
and Stanwood told him to shut up. ‘Oh, Dashington’s 
all right,’ said Corey, and Stanwood ” 

“Who was Dashington?” interrupted Jerry. 

“Me; that was my assumed name; Paul Dashing- 
ton.” 

Jerry grinned. “You sure selected a fancy one! 
Then what?” 

“Stanwood told Corey maybe I was all right, but 
he wasn’t supposed to talk, and he moved away like 
he wanted me to follow him. But I didn’t, and I 
winked at Corey and said, ‘Must be some joke about 
that ball,’ and laughed. And he winked back and said, 
‘You bet there is! I’d like to show it to you but the 
case is locked.’ ” 

“Was it?” asked Jerry. 

“I reckon so. I didn’t dare try it, but it looked 
locked. After that we went downstairs again and 
they asked me to dinner, but I felt sort of sneaky and 
went down to the village and had something to eat at 
a lunch room. It came to forty-five cents and you 
owe me ” 

165 


KICK FORMATION 


“ Never mind that! They didn’t say that that ball 
was the one they swiped from us, did they?” 

“No, they didn’t say it, but they looked it! You 
could tell right off from the way they all snickered 
and the way Stanwood jumped on Corey for talking. 
It’s on the right of the case, Jerry, the last one in the 
fourth row from the top. It’s the only one without a 
date and with both scores in white. I suppose who- 
ever painted it didn’t have any light blue handy.” 

“If they had dark blue and white they could have 
made it,” objected Jerry. 

“That’s so. I didn’t think of that. Anyway, they 
didn’t. Both scores are in white: * C . H. io — 
N. B. o.’ ” 

“Painted out the old score, of course,” mused Jerry. 

“I don’t think so, and I’ll tell you why, Jerry. If 
you sort of look over the top of that ball you’ll see 
a lightish streak that might be gold. Anyway, it isn’t 
the same color as the front of the ball, and I think they 
left the score on one side and painted over the other 
and painted a new score. I’ll bet if you could see 
the back of it you’d find it just as it was. I suppose 
they think it makes the joke funnier! Anyway, Jerry, 
you were right, because it’s just where you thought it 
would be.” 

“What I don’t understand,” said Jerry, “is why the 
faculty hasn’t found it out. Seems to me if they 
checked up they’d see there was one ball too many in 
that case. Unless — yes, they might have done that; 
they might have taken one of the genuine balls out 
166 


IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP 

and put this one in its place. Reckon that’s just what 
they did. What was the lock on that case like?” 

“It looked like an ordinary old-fashioned lock like 
you see on bookcases and such things; takes a round 
key with a hole in the end of it, you know.” 

“If you were in front of the case could any one see 
you from the corridor?” 

“Not unless they were going by. You see, you 
come upstairs in the middle of the building. The 
corridor runs right and left. Then there’s one of 
these alcoves about halfway along on each side. I 
reckon they were put there to get light.” 

“Ted, you’re a right smart detective,” said Jerry. 
“Old Sleuth ain’t got anything on you.” 

“It was heaps of fun,” chuckled Ted. “If those 
fellows catch sight of me again they’re going to do a 
lot of thinking, aren’t they?” 

“Reckon you’d better keep out of the way. If they 
did see you they might get suspicious.” 

“Oh, they’ll be too excited about the game to notice. 
Besides, Jerry, you promised last week I could help.” 

“All right. Trouble’s going to be in getting away 
from the field. Then, too, I’ll be in football togs. I 
didn’t think of that until just now. If those Cum- 
bridge fellows see me making for the School Hall 
they’ll likely follow me up.” 

“Gee, that’s so! Maybe you’d better let me do it. 
I could make believe I was looking for one of those 
fellows in that society room.” 

But Jerry shook his head. “If they caught you 
167 


KICK FORMATION 


they’d beat you up, I reckon. We’ll find some scheme. 
What I’m most afraid of is that they’ll take the ball 
out of there before our crowd gets there.” 

“I don’t believe they will. I suppose they think it’s 
a pretty good joke to have it there in plain sight and 
nobody recognizing it.” 

“Well, maybe so,” replied Jerry doubtfully. “Any- 
way, we’ve got to chance that. Did you notice if there 
was a telephone in that building?” 

“Why, yes, there are two booths on the left as you 
enter, just inside the front door. Why, Jerry?” 

“Nothing much, only I reckon I see now how it’s 
going to be done,” chuckled Jerry. “If some one was 
to call me on a very important matter I reckon Mr. 
Thorne might let me go to the ’phone !” 

“Of course! That’s the idea! Get some one here 
to call you up!” 

Jerry nodded. “Just the same, if I was playing 
then it wouldn’t do any good,” he said doubtfully. 
“Got to ponder that, I reckon. What do you say if we 
go home now? It’s getting sort of chilly.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


“BALL ! BALL 1” 

M ONDAY morning Jerry hurried over to the 
gymnasium at half-past ten and donned his 
togs and at twenty minutes to eleven he was 
sending off his first “corkscrew” from the nearer 
thirty-yard line of the second team gridiron. The 
uncertainty of volunteer assistance had made it neces- 
sary for Mr. Thorne to delegate a member of the squad 
to catch and return Jerry’s punts, and the lucky — or 
unlucky — person was Pascoe, a third-string end. 
Pascoe made up in determination what he lacked in 
speed. No matter how long it took him to do it, 
Pascoe always insisted that the pigskin return to Jerry 
by a kick, and, since kicking was not a branch of the 
art that he excelled at, there were frequently long in- 
terims between Jerry’s efforts. Perhaps, however, it 
was just as well, for Jerry was inclined to overdo his 
forenoon work these days. The big game was less 
than a fortnight distant, and the fact had struck Jerry 
with force. It seemed to him that he had accomplished 
very little so far and that in the brief time left to him 
he could accomplish very little more. This particular 
morning he was rather panicky about it and would 
169 


KICK FORMATION 


have punted himself into a state of coma, perhaps, had 
his helper been more prompt with his returns. As it 
was there was usually time enough between kicks to 
think things over and discover what had been wrong' 
with the previous effort, and so Pascoe’s grim de- 
termination to boot the ball rather than throw it worked 
for good. 

Mr. Tibbs arrived about halfway through the ses- 
sion, which was a habit of his of late, and, throwing 
aside his coat, took a hand in affairs. Jump’s style 
of punting was slightly different from that learned — 
or in process of being learned — by Jerry, and so, in a 
way, he was a confusing factor. But Jerry had sense 
enough not to attempt to alter his way of kicking at 
this late date. Instead, he agreed with all Mr. Tibbs 
said, to the extent of never questioning it, and then 
continued in his own sweet way. Mr. Tibbs secretly 
thought Jerry rather dense, but had to admit that the 
boy’s style of punting got results. This morning, 
standing on the thirty-yard line, Jerry landed the battle- 
scarred football between the twenty and twenty-five 
yards without apparent effort, and did it several times. 
There was no wind, favoring or otherwise ; the handful 
of dry grass that Mr. Tibbs tossed questioningly aloft 
floated straight down again. 

“That’s bully work,” said the second team coach 
warmly. “Man, with a decent wind behind you you 
could do sixty yards! If you could get that twist a 
bit better you’d be a wonder. Just let me show you 
that again, Benson. I’d sure like you to get that I” 

170 


“BALL ! BALL!” 


Whereupon, when the ball came dribbling back, Mr. 
Tibbs took it and dropped it and swung a sturdy right 
leg, swinging almost two-thirds around. The result 
was a nice forty-yard punt, which in Jerry’s estima- 
tion was not worthy the gyrations that had produced 
it. But he only nodded gravely and in silence when 
Mr. Tibbs turned to him. 

“Of course,” said the coach, “that wasn’t a long 
kick. I’m out of practice, you see. But it shows what 
I mean by putting the body into the kick. You play 
baseball, Benson, and they tell me you were their star 
batter last spring. Well, now, you know that you can’t 
get a long hit by just using your arms. You’ve got 
to put your body into that swing, haven’t you?” 

Jerry reflected and said he reckoned so. 

“Of course! Same thing with punting. Mind, I 
don’t say you don’t get a fine, healthy biff your way, 
but I’ll bet that if you got more of your body into 
your kicks you’d lengthen them another five yards. 
Want to try again?” 

Jerry did try again, but with no better results. It 
just seemed that he couldn’t get that wide, circling 
swing of his leg. Mr. Tibbs looked disappointed and 
a trifle pained. And, maybe, a trifle suspicious. But 
Jerry’s crystal-clear look of apology disarmed him, 
and he only sighed as a preliminary to saying : “You 
didn’t quite get it, Benson, but I’ll say you made a 
punt !” 

In the afternoon practice began from a running 
start, so to speak. Preliminaries were omitted, save 
171 


KICK FORMATION 


for ten or twelve minutes of signal drill, and the 
coaches hustled the two teams out on the field and de- 
manded action. “Your kick-off, Second! Varsity, I 
want a touchdown inside of six minutes. You backs, 
show some speed or you’ll be holding the bench down 
a week from Saturday! That means you especially, 
Ashley. You’ve been getting slower and slower. 
Make them jump, Keller! Let’s see some football!” 

Jerry, blanket-draped, followed ten yards or so be- 
hind the first team, one of a dozen or more substitutes 
whose first duty just now was to watch every play 
and learn by the mistakes of others. Ahead of him, 
darting into the melee after every whistle, went Coach 
Thorne, his voice raised almost incessantly in reproof 
or praise, command or warning. 

“Get down, Left Tackle! You’re letting that man 
under you every time ! . . . Omstead! You’re giv- 
ing the play away! Don’t look at the hole! Keep 
your eyes on the ball ! . . . Into it, Varsity! Smash 
through! That’s it! Good work, Duveen! Whose 
place was it to look after that left tackle? That was 
up to you, Ashley, wasn’t it? Where were you? He 
was almost on the back of the play! Watch that next 
time! . . . Come on, now! You aren’t half fight- 
ing! Center, you’ve got to keep your eyes open on 
that play. Speed it up, Quarter! Get the jump on 
those fellows! You’re all slow, slow, SLOW!” 

From across the lines came the higher-pitched tones 
of Mr. Tibbs: “Who let that man through? That 
was you, Langley! You let him get you on a pivot 
172 


“BALL ! BALL!” 


again. I’ve told you twenty times not to let that hap- 
pen ! Burns, come in here and show this man how to 
play ! Keep your eyes open and learn, Langley ! . . . 
Get under ’em, Second! Get under ’em, I tell you! 
Lift ’em up! Throw ’em back! Stop this play! Get 
him! Get him! . . . That’s the stuff, Wilson! 
That’s great! That’s playing it! . . . Let’s have it 
again! Every man into it hard, hard ! Let’s stop 
’em! Bust it up, Second! Jump!” 

The six minutes passed and the ball, although still 
the First’s, was forty yards from a touchdown. Mr. 
Thorne scolded and begged. “Where’s your speed, 
you fellows? Omstead, you’re slow, man! You’ve 
got to start faster. You’ve got to get your stride 
sooner. You’re only half moving when you hit the 
line! Those forwards can’t keep a hole open all day! 
Come on and show your pep!” 

So it went until, having reached the second team’s 
twenty-six yards, Duveen missed a pass and an enemy 
tackle dived through and stole the ball from under 
Keller’s nose. Two smashes at the left of center for 
only four yards and then the second punted to midfield, 
where Keller caught and was downed on the spot. 
The gallery, who had dispersed with flying draperies 
a moment before, hurried back to their posts of ob- 
servation, and Duveen sliced off three yards outside 
right tackle. Then Omstead tried a straight buck at 
the other side of center and ran into a stone wall, and 
Coach Thorne raised an imploring hand to the blue 
heavens. 


173 


KICK FORMATION 


“You were late as usual, Omstead,” he snapped. 
“That’ll do. Benson! Get in there at left half and 
see if you can show some speed. All that beat you 
fellows Saturday was your slowness. I’m going to 
have a back-field with some snap to it if I have to 
find a brand-new one between now and the twenty- 
fifth!” 

Duveen made the rest of the distance on a fake for- 
ward that sent him plunging around the left end. Then 
came the first of a series and Jerry, arms-length to 
the left of Duveen in the regular formation, shifted 
his weight a trifle more to the right, yet carefully kept 
his gaze from the bent figure of Conger, at right tackle. 
Back went the ball to Keller. Duveen darted to the 
left in front of Jerry. Keller turned and passed to 
Ashley and the latter followed Duveen, straight for- 
ward toward the left of the line. Jerry moved his 
prescribed step forward and held open hands. Ashley 
was up to him, past him! Then, at the last possible 
moment, he tossed the ball back across the angle of his 
elbow. Jerry caught it in a sort of panic, but he had 
lost his impetus by the time the ball was nestled to his 
stomach, and when he had dashed across to the right 
of the line an enemy half was blocking the hole and 
Jerry went full tilt into a heaving, swaying mass of 
bodies, pushed and heaved and squirmed all to no pur- 
pose, and heard despairingly the shrill whistle ! 

“What was your trouble, Benson?” snarled the 
coach. “Off on the wrong foot, eh? Balled every- 
174 


“BALL ! BALL!” 


thing up because you couldn’t remember the play! A 
sweet performance that !” 

Jerry kept silent and dodged past to position. But 
he looked past Duveen and wondered. Gus Ashley 
was as sober as a judge, but there was something in his 
dirt-streaked face that told Jerry that he was by no 
means displeased. There were no signals this time, 
just the brief: “Come on!” from the quarter; and 
the play was reversed, with Jerry taking the ball from 
Keller and tossing it to Ashley as he trotted past. It 
went well, for Ashley found a clear path outside his 
own left tackle and sliced past for four yards before 
he was stopped. Again no signals, Duveen taking the 
pass direct from center and plunging forward like a 
battering-ram and hurling his weight and strength at 
the left guard-tackle hole. The hole was there, wide 
and well cleaned out, and the full back shot through 
and smashed into a back, caromed off, found his feet, 
dodged and was off, straight down the field, friend 
and enemy streaking in his wake! 

Duveen made the eight yards before he was pulled 
to earth, and from there, past left tackle, he made four 
more, and then, with two downs to spare, romped 
across for the touchdown. 

An interchange of punts after Keller had missed 
an easy goal ended the period. 

Jerry saw most of the second half from the bench, but 
when the scrimmage was almost over he was called back 
to punt from his forty-yard line and stayed in after 
the second had run the kick back to her thirty-seven. 

175 




KICK FORMATION 

In midfield the second fumbled and Mansfield cap- 
tured the pigskin. Jerry and Duveen alternated around 
right for six, Ashley added three through the line 
and Duveen smashed straight into center for the rest 
of the distance. Then, faking a punt, Jerry hurled 
to Butterfield and there was a clear twelve-yard gain. 
Again came the crisscross and again Jerry waited for 
the pass from Ashley. This time there was a mocking 
grin on the right half's face as he passed too late, a 
grin that deepened as the cry of “Ball! Ball!” arose. 
Jerry flung himself to the ground and wrapped his 
arms about the pigskin and felt the weight of falling 
bodies. Then he was on his feet again and Coach 
Thorne's remorseless voice was in his ears: 

‘That was rotten, Benson! That’ll do for to-day. 
Gray, take left half, and, if you can't gain, at least 
hold on to the ball !" 


CHAPTER XVIII 


ASHLEY AGREES TO QUIT 

J ERRY told Tom that evening of Gus Ashley's 
strange behavior in practice. “Looked like he 
was trying to make it hard for me,” said Jerry, 
puzzled. “The last time he did it I just couldn’t get 
the pass, and the ball went clean away from me. Mr. 
Thorne thought I’d fumbled it, I reckon.” 

“I don’t see why Ashley should do anything like that 
intentionally,” answered Tom. “If it was Purves Jor- 
dan I’d understand, because Jordan’s that sort any- 
way. But it can’t make any difference to Ashley if you 
play at left half. I guess you imagined it, Jerry.” 

Jerry replied that maybe he had, but he didn’t look 
convinced. On Tuesday the same thing happened again 
twice. The first time, in spite of the delay, Jerry made 
the play, a buck at the right of center, go for two 
yards, but the next time, although he avoided a fumble, 
he was stopped for a loss. His anxious look at Coach 
Thorne revealed the coach in a moment of evident per- 
plexity, and instead of the expected “call down” Jerry 
got only a puzzled glance. It was of Ashley that an 
explanation was demanded. 

177 


KICK FORMATION 


“What was your trouble, Right Half?” asked the 
coach. “You passed to Benson ’way late!” 

“He wasn’t ready, I reckon,” answered Ashley. “I 
can’t pass until he’s ready.” 

“Yes, you can. You needn’t concern yourself about 
him. You do your part and let him look after him- 
self. Don’t let me see that happen again. Benson, 
you’re supposed to be ready for the ball the minute the 
play begins. Any more of that nonsense and you’ll 
both go !” 

That was the last that day, but it wasn’t the last of 
Jerry’s misfortunes. Three minutes later there came 
a play in which Jerry, carrying the ball, went close off 
right tackle. In this play quarter back went ahead to 
engage the opposing tackle, full back followed to clean 
out the hole, and left half, with the ball, went next. 
Right Half looked after the end. So the play pro- 
ceeded on this occasion and Jerry plunged along for 
well over two yards before a second team back reached 
him and stopped him. There was a moment of un- 
certain swaying and confusion, during which Jerry 
was aware of Ashley’s presence behind him. Then he 
went down and the whistle piped. As he toppled a 
clenched fist came swiftly up under his arms that 
hugged the ball and knocked it loose. There was a cry 
of “Ball!” and a wild scramble. A second team back 
had it when the pile-up was untangled. Tub Keller in- 
dignantly claimed it. “He had the ball when the 
whistle blew!” cried Tub. “Second stole it, Mr. Ref- 
eree !” But neither the referee nor any of the officials 
178 


ASHLEY AGREES TO QUIT 


supported Tub’s contention and Jerry went back to 
his position in disgrace. He knew quite well what had 
happened, but none had seen the incident and he 
couldn’t have proved his charge had he made it, which 
he had no idea of doing. For some reason Ashley was 
doing all he could to discredit him and Jerry had no 
“comeback.” 

Jordan finished the game at left half, taking Jerry’s 
place a minute or two after the apparent fumble. Jerry 
was sent off to the showers by the lynx-eyed trainer, 
but he had not left the gymnasium when the others 
trooped in and he encountered Mr. Thome at the 
locker room door. The coach frowned slightly as he 
stopped, but he spoke mildly enough. 

“Benson, you’re doing far too much fumbling,” he 
said. “What’s the trouble?” 

Jerry wanted to explain but he couldn’t. So he said 
nothing, and after an instant the coach continued. 
“Maybe you’d better take it easy to-morrow,” he said. 
“Leave out punting in the morning, my boy. I reckon 
we’ve been working you pretty hard. Feeling all 
right?” 

“Yes, sir. I — I don’t reckon it’s working too hard, 
sir.” 

“Well, we’ll see. Don’t worry about it.” 

“I ain’t aiming to worry none,” said Jerry to him- 
self, as he went on, “but I’m aiming to learn why that 
feller’s bothering me!” 

When Gus Ashley came out of Hall the next morn- 
ing after chapel Jerry was awaiting him. “I’m wishful 
179 


KICK FORMATION 


to speak a few words with you,” he said quietly. 
Ashley looked surprised. Then his eyes narrowed. 
"‘What’s your trouble, Benson?” he asked, casting an 
amused glance at Butterfield, who was with him. Jerry 
looked embarrassed, almost apologetic, as he replied: 
“I reckon I can’t tell you here,” he said. ""I’d like you 
to walk over yonder, please.” 

“Oh, all right.” Ashley laughed and winked at 
Butterfield. “See you later, Lon. Benson and I’ve got 
a secret!” He followed Jerry to the beginning of 
the path that led across to McCrea. There he asked 
impatiently: “What do you think you’re up to, boy? 
Trying to start something you can’t finish?” 

“I reckon you and me — you and I ought to come to 
an understanding,” said Jerry calmly. “And I’d like 
you to step over yonder with me.” He nodded toward 
the little frame stable close to the further boundary of 
the school grounds. The narrow space between stable 
and hedge was sacred to the adjustment of affairs of 
honor, a fact that Gus Ashley knew far better than 
Jerry. Ashley’s brows went up and he laughed almost 
jovially. 

“That means a fight, eh ? I like your cheek, Benson ! 
What do you want to scrap about?” 

“I ain’t aiming to fight none,” returned Jerry 
gravely, “not unless you ain’t willing to promise to 
let me be.” 

"‘Let you be ?” Ashley pretended ignorance. “What 
do you mean, you silly ass? Who’s bothering you?” 

“I’d like you to come over yonder,” repeated Jerry. 

180 


ASHLEY AGREES TO QUIT 


His tone was politely earnest and hospitable. Ashley 
frowned, hesitated, shrugged and started. 

“All right, but it's plumb nonsense! Besides, con- 
found it, Benson, it’s ten minutes to breakfast timer' 

“I ain’t aiming to keep you long,” replied Jerry, 
falling into step as they crossed the turf. “I reckon 
ten minutes is enough.” There was a grimness in his 
tone that caused Ashley to cast a quick and uncertain 
glance at him. But what he saw reassured him. Jerry 
was more than a year younger, smaller and much 
lighter. There could be no doubt of the outcome of 
any unpleasantness that might develop, and Ashley 
chuckled. “You’re a quaint youth, Benson,” he said. 
“It will give me a heap of pleasure to hand you a 
couple of wallops, boy !” 

Jerry made no response and they passed around the 
corner of the stable. Inside, Cicero was grooming the 
carriage mules and they could hear him singing at his 
labor. Cicero, however, was slightly deaf and there 
was no danger of interruption from him. 

“You’ve been picking on me,” announced Jerry, 
when they were out of sight of the school buildings. 
“You’ve been trying to muss up my playing. I don’t 
know why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve got to quit.” 

“Picking on you, eh ?” laughed Ashley. “You sound 
like a kid ! How have I been picking on you ?” 

“You know how,” said Jerry gravely. “You lied 
about me to the coach day before yesterday, too. You 
told him I wasn’t ready for the pass, and I was ready, 
and you knowed — knew it!” 

181 


KICK FORMATION 


“Calling me a liar, are you, you tow-haired back- 
woodsman ?” Ashley tried to sound properly resentful 
and ferocious, but he didn’t succeed. 

“I ain’t aiming to call names,” said Jerry. “I’m 
only telling you what you done. You’ve got to quit it, 
Ashley.” 

“Have I ?” Ashley laughed again. Then he scowled 
impatiently. “Look here, Benson, you might as well 
understand right now that you’re not wanted on the 
team. Take my advice and keep out of it. If you 
don’t, you’re going to meet up with a sight of trouble, 
boy!” 

“Who is it’s not wanting me?” 

“What? Why, a lot of us. Hang it, Benson, you 
haven’t any business butting in and trying to take 
Jordan’s job away from him ! He’s worked hard for 
that position and you’re a newcomer and you don’t, 
know anything about the game. Thorne’s boosting 
you, that’s all. If he wasn’t you’d never get a taste 
of football. You stop trying to swipe Jordan’s place 
or you’ll get into worse trouble than you have.” 

“I ain’t worriting about Jordan,” replied Jerry. He 
carefully removed his jacket, folded it and laid it on 
the ground. “I’ve got as good a right to play football 
as he has, or you, or any other feller. I’m peaceable, 
Ashley, but I ain’t aiming to let no one walk on me. 
I reckon you’d better remove your coat.” 

“Don’t be a fool, Benson !” exclaimed the other. “I 
can lick the tar out of you, boy. Have some sense. 

182 


ASHLEY AGREES TO QUIT 

What good's it going to do you to get your face all 
spoiled ?” 

“You ain’t spoiled it yet,” answered Jerry. “You’d 
better take your coat off.” 

“I certainly will, you silly fool ! And I’ll teach you 
a lesson, Benson! Remember, though, I warned you. 
Now you’ll take what’s coming to you.” 

“I’m waiting on you,” said Jerry. 

Ashley undid his wrist watch and tossed it onto his 
coat. Then he gave a hitch to his trousers and strode 
forward, his eyes on Jerry’s and a half smile on his 
good-looking face. “You long-legged, tow-headed 
little rooster,” he said softly, almost kindly, “I’m going 
to make you behave!” He shot out a straight right 
and followed quickly with his left. The right failed 
to land, but his left fist went under Jerry’s guard and 
reached his ribs smartly. Then Ashley grunted and 
fell back, for Jerry, arms whirling like flails, had 
leaped toward him. Ashley side-stepped, received a 
light, glancing blow on one cheek and shot out his 
right as Jerry went past. Jerry staggered, whirled 
and came back, trying to close with his antagonist but 
meeting such stiff punishment that he had to give up 
the attempt. He drew back, an expression of mild sur- 
prise on his face. 

“You-all’s got a right smart punch,” he panted. 

“Better learn to fight before you try it again,” 
jeered Ashley. 

Jerry grinned as he advanced more cautiously. 
“Reckon I’ll take some learning right now,” he an- 

183 


KICK FORMATION 


swered. Then he leaped again, got a hard jolt on his 
jaw that ought to have stopped him but didn’t, and| 
fairly beat down Ashley’s guard. The next thing the 
larger boy knew, he was on the ground, flat on his 
back, and Jerry was on top of him raining blows to 
whatever portion of his body he could reach. Ashley 
was so surprised that for a painful moment he merely 
strove to protect his face. Then, with a roar of rage, 
he arched his back and sent Jerry sprawling. 

“What kind of fighting do you call that, you North 
Carolina wildcat?” he demanded furiously. He strode 
across and waited for Jerry’s rising. “Don’t you know 
better than to hit a fellow when he’s down?” 

“I put you down,” answered Jerry. He squirmed 
to one knee, watching, and then, when Ashley failed 
to strike, jumped up and back lithely. Ashley’s blow 
missed, but he followed and landed twice before Jerry, 
accepting punishment gamely, again wrapped his long 
arms about his opponent. 

Ashley stormed and struggled, raining blows on the 
back of Jerry’s head, but the arms only hugged the 
tighter. Ashley knew practically nothing of wrestling 
and so was no match for the enemy. Suddenly Jerry 
shifted his hold, there was a crash and Ashley again 
lay prone, most of the breath driven from his lungs. 
But a smashing blow on one ear brought him back to 
action. Again he tried to get rid of his enemy, but 
this time success was slower in coming, and for a 
long moment blows were given and taken on the 
ground, Ashley getting more than his share of them. 

184 


ASHLEY AGREES TO QUIT 


Finally, however, his superior weight told and he 
managed to topple his adversary aside and to leap to 
his feet. Then it began again, but now Ashley had 
learned his lesson, which was to keep Jerry at arm’s 
length. For awhile they circled each other, panting 
and feinting, Jerry crouching for an opening and 
Ashley keeping him at bay. Then again Jerry sprang. 
Ashley met him squarely with his left and Jerry 
stopped in midflight and went backward to the earth. 
That blow had landed on his chin and for an instant 
Jerry had no interest in the course of events. Ashley 
stood above him a trifle anxiously. 

“You would have it, you crazy fool!” he charged 
as Jerry blinked his eyes open. “Got enough?” 

To his surprise, Jerry’s answer was a series of quick 
rolls that brought him smack against the stable, from 
whence he leaped to his feet, albeit a trifle unsteadily. 
“I ain’t had nigh enough,” he panted doggedly. “I 
ain’t going to have enough till you promise to let me 
be!” 

“You’re crazy!” sighed the other. “Look here, it’s 
way after breakfast time and we’re both getting messed 
up and faculty’ll get on to us as sure as shooting. 
Have some sense, Benson! You can’t lick me. I’m 
not so sure that I can lick you as I was, but I can 
keep on hammering you. Let’s call it a draw. What 
do you say?” 

“I ain’t aiming to quit just yet,” answered Jerry,, 
swinging his long arms as he crept warily forward. 
“You’ve got to promise to stop pestering me, Ashley.” 

185 


KICK FORMATION 


“Hang it all, I will then! Great Scott, there's no 
use fighting you, Benson. You don't fight fair and 
you don’t know when you’re licked!” 

“You ain’t licked nobody yet and you know you 
ain’t! I fight like I been taught to fight, too. You 
mean you’re going to let me be after this?” 

“Yes, I mean just that,” answered Ashley disgust- 
edly. “You’re a — a regular savage! Hang it, I don’t 
care who has the position, anyway.” He rescued his 
watch and began to strap it back on his wrist. “If 
Jordan wants it he can fight his own battles for it 
after this. I’m through!” He grinned wryly. “I 
wish he’d fought this one, by Jove! I’ll look like a 
wreck when I get to breakfast. So will you. I say, 
we’d better stop in McCrea and get cleaned up a bit 
before any one sees us!” 

Jerry felt gingerly of his chin and caressed the 
bone under his left eye. “Reckon we’ll both look kind 
of bad,” he said. “Reckon the faculty’ll say much?” 

“Not if we keep quiet and don’t call attention to our 
— our wounds,” answered Ashley. “Come on. We’ll 
duck into Jordan’s room in McCrea and patch our- 
selves up a bit.” They emerged into sight of the Hall 
most circumspectly and then, assuming an extremely 
casual appearance, proceeded not too hurriedly toward 
the nearest house. Fortunately Number 8 was de- 
serted, Hal Mansfield and Purves Jordan both being 
still at breakfast. Fortunately, too, Ashley discovered 
several things helpful to persons suffering from con- 
tusions: witch-hazel, arnica and talcum. Ashley de- 
186 


ASHLEY AGREES TO QUIT 


cided against the arnica as being too suggestive in 
odor and chose witch-hazel instead. With a clean 
handkerchief filched from Jordan’s chiffonier drawer 
he performed first aid on Jerry. Jerry had received 
rather the worst of the encounter so far as appear- 
ances went, at least, though Ashley declared that in 
numerous places not exposed to public view he was 
as sore as the dickens! The talcum powder came in 
very handy as a final application since it somewhat dis- 
guised the mottled complexion of Jerry’s chin and 
cheek and mitigated the excessive redness of Ashley’s 
left ear. At last they viewed each other dubiously, and 
Ashley shook his head. 

“You don’t look so bad, Benson,” he said, “but no 
one would gather that you had just returned from 
Sunday school. Reckon you’d better turn down a 
side alley when you see a faculty coming! How do I 
look?” 

“Sort of funny,” answered Jerry. “One of your 
ears is swollen and there’s a place on your neck that 
ought to have some more of that talcy powder on it. 
Where’s it?” Jerry dusted liberally, viewed the result 
and pronounced it satisfactory. Thereupon they made 
their way forth, Ashley proclaiming somewhat dis- 
mayedly that it was twenty-two minutes after break- 
fast time. 

“I reckon we’d better not go in together,” he said. 
“You go first and I’ll come in a minute later.” 

“I ain’t in any hurry,” said Jerry. “I’d just as 
lief you went first.” 


187 


KICK FORMATION 


“Neither am I. Say, Benson, I reckon I'm sort 
of sorry about what I did, and I might as well say so. 
It was pretty rotten. And, dog my cats, you're a lot 
better player than Purves is, anyway! I hope you 
make it, boy. I'll make up for that mean trick by 
helping you any way I can. And — and if you say so 
I'll tell Thorne about it / 9 

Jerry shook his head as they ran up the steps to the 
Hall. “Ain't no need of that,” he answered. “Reckon 
there ain't anything you can do for me except one 
thing.” 

“What's that ?” asked Ashley. 

“Quit calling me Benson. Just Jerry's good 
enough.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


A WET FIELD 

J ERRY was rather glad of exemption from morn- 
ing punting practice that day, for of late he had 
not had any too much time for studying and he 
had a suspicion that Mr. Logan, the mathematics in- 
structor, was contemplating criticism. So the hour 
usually given to kicking the pigskin was devoted instead 
to establishing more intimate relations with algebra. 
By good luck none of the faculty expressed any curi- 
osity about Jerry's discolored chin and cheek. Several 
viewed him with discomforting attention, but none said 
anything. Ashley, with whom Jerry compared notes 
later, reported a similar experience. 

“Faculty knows the fellows pull off scraps now 
and then, and it doesn't usually take any notice. Of 
course, if a chap shows himself around school too 
badly bunged up it has to, but he always gets off with 
a lecture. I don't want to sound like a squealer, Ben- 
son — I mean Jerry, but would you mind telling me if 
folks all fight the way you do where you come from?" 

“I reckon so. When there's a ruckus they just lay 
onto each other and there ain't any rules that I ever 
heard tell of. Mostly, they try to get the other feller 
down and beat him up." 


189 


KICK FORMATION 


“Well, I’ll say it’s mighty earnest,” said Ashley. 
“Reckon I’ll have to learn to wrestle before I fight you 
again.” 

“Reckon you ain't going to fight me again,” an- 
swered Jerry soberly, feeling of his chin. “Reckon 
next time I’ll favor arbitration!” 

That afternoon Jerry took part in formation drill 
and did a little punting, but that was all. Coach 
Thorne inquired how he felt and Jerry said, “Fine, 
thanks,” hoping that the coach would relent and let 
him into the scrimmage. But he didn't, and Jerry sat 
on the bench, wrapped in a blue blanket, and looked on 
through thirty minutes of a very snappy game. It 
had been cloudy since midmorning and before the first 
period was over a soft, warm drizzle began to fall. 
There was some fumbling after that, for, with one early- 
season exception, this was the team's first opportunity 
to handle a wet ball. Both first and second offended, 
and the voices of the two coaches were frequently heard 
excoriating some unfortunate player. Jerry found 
faint comfort in the fact that, by reason of not playing, 
he was saved from fumbling. As the scrimmage neared 
its end the rain increased and the playing slowed up as 
a result of slippery turf. Every substitute save Jerry 
was used that afternoon, and Jordan, peeling off a 
sweater in response to a summons from the field, sent 
a look of malignant triumph along the bench at Jerry., 
Jerry chuckled to himself, and Gray, who had just 
dropped into a seat beside him, laughed outright. 

“Jordan loves you like a brother, doesn't he, Ben- 
190 


A WET FIELD 


son? Glad he doesn’t look at me like that. I’d lose 
my appetite! You're lucky you don’t have to play 
on that field to-day. It’s fierce. A drizzle like this is 
worse than a real rain, I reckon. The turf, where 
there’s any left, is like glass and your cleats don’t do 
you a mite of good. Thorne says we ought to get 
used to a wet field, and maybe we should, but he ought 
to know we can’t do it in one day. Well, I should 
worry. It won’t make much difference to me whether 
the field’s wet or dry the day of the Cumbridge game ; 
I won’t get into it.” 

“I reckon we’ll all get in for a while,” said Jerry. 
“You’ve got the edge on Jordan, and I reckon you can 
count on playing one quarter anyway.” 

“Think so?” asked Gray hopefully. “I don’t know. 
It’s a pretty safe bet that Omstead and Ashley will 
play as long as the/ re able, and both of them are 
tough fellows when it comes to getting hurt. Then 
Summerfield will go in for Ashley and you’ll go in 
for Omstead. That leaves Jordan and me on the 
outside looking in!” 

“Well, I don’t know much about it,” replied Jerry; 
“only what I’ve heard; but I understand that Mr. 
Thorne’s a great hand for using the subs. As for me, 
I reckon whether I play or not depends on how the 
game goes. Duveen and Keller will likely do the 
punting unless Cumbridge gets us on the run. Then, 
I suppose, Thorne will call on me.” 

“Maybe, but Duveen’s punts aren’t much good, and 
I don’t see why Thorne’s giving you so much atten- 
191 


KICK FORMATION 


tion if he only means to use you in a pinch. Oh, well, 
we’ll see when the time comes. There’s the whistle. 
Come on !” 

But Jerry wasn’t destined to “come on” just then,* 
for Naughton came hurrying over and told him that 
the coach wanted him on the field. And when Jerry 
got there a very wet and slippery football was thrust 
into his hands and the coach said briskly : “Here you 
are, Benson! You and Cleary put in a half hour at 
punting. I want you to learn to use a wet ball, son. 
You’ll find it a heap heavier than a dry one, and a 
heap harder to place. Cleary, you catch Benson. Om- 
stead ! You and Sears go down to the other goal and 
try some drops. All the rest of you in on the run 
and don’t stand around here getting stiff!” 

The coach’s prediction that Jerry would find a wet 
ball different from a dry one proved true. Jerry had 
a lot of difficulty at first and Cleary ran hither and 
thither all over the east end of the field after the 
erratic punts. But after he had tried a half dozen he 
had better success and, although he found that a wet 
pigskin could not be driven as far as a dry one, he got 
off some very fair kicks. He was rather glad, how- 
ever, when the half hour was up, for he was extremely 
damp from head to feet and the sides of his trousers 
no longer served to dry his hands on. He suspected 
that Omstead and Sears had cut short their period 
of work, for they had gone when he and Cleary mu-| 
tually agreed to call it a day. 

That evening Ted Ingraham came over and made a 

192 


A WET FIELD 


call, and when he had gone Tom acknowledged that he 
didn't seem such a bad sort after all. Ted showed a 
strong inclination to enter North Bank after Christ-, 
mas and asked a good many questions about the school, 
the answering of which fell to Tom by reason of his 
longer acquaintance with the place and its customs. 
Joe Keller came in toward the end of the visit and 
amused himself by dark references to hazing. Ted, 
though, refused to be frightened. “I reckon if you 
fellows managed to live through it, I can," he said. 
“Bet you Purves Jordan wasn't hazed much. If he 
had been he'd never have stuck around! I wouldn’t 
be surprised if I decided to come here when the next 
term begins. I've got to go somewhere, I suppose, 
and I might as well go where I know a few fellows. 
Besides" — and here Ted smiled broadly — “it would 
be sort of handy having the summer cottage to go 
to for a party now and then! I’ll get mother to 
leave the key with me." 

“Bully scheme!" declared Joe. “Ingraham, on be- 
half of the student body and the faculty of North 
Bank School, I welcome you to our midst. Also, I de- 
clare myself in on the first party!" 

“Well said," agreed Tom. “I believe that Ingraham 
will prove a great addition to our ranks. And I may 
add that I have no engagement for the date alluded 
to!" 

Jerry walked down to the landing with Ted when 
he left and they talked of their conspiracy to recapture 
the 1915 football. Jerry was forced to acknowledge, 

193 


KICK FORMATION 


however, that he was no nearer a solution of his dif- 
ficulty. “You see, it's going to be mighty hard to 
get away from the field after play begins, 1 ” he said. 
“Having some one telephone to me is all right, but 
suppose I'm playing when the call comes ? Mr. Thome' 
isn’t going to stop the game for me to answer it.” 

“Reckon you’ll have to let me do it, after all,” said 
Ted eagerly. “Bet you I could, too! Every fellow 
will be at the game and all I’d have to do ” 

“I ain’t so sure,” interrupted Jerry. “There’s likely 
to be some fellows who don’t care about football and 
won’t go to the field. And we’ve got to think about 
faculty members and janitors and such. It ain’t going 
to be so plaguy easy, I reckon. Just the same, it’s 
going to be done, Ted, somehow !” 

“You bet it is! If there wasn’t any other way, 
Jerry, I could hide myself in the building until every 
one had gone to sleep and then get away with it. How 
about some keys?” 

“I’m going to get some more. I’ve got five already, 
but they’re all about of a size. Every time I visit a 
fellow now I pinch the key of his bureau! Well, see 
you Saturday, Ted. The game starts at two this time. 
Good-night !” 


CHAPTER XX 


NEW PLAYS 

We’ll cheer for Old North Bank! 

She’s got the right team, 

She’s got the right spirit, 

She’s got the right steam. 

She’s got the right captain. 

She’s got the right men. 

She’s got to make good for 
Old North Bank again! 

So rip up the Cumbridge team! 

Tear up the Cumbridge team! 

Smash up the Cumbridge team! 

Fight, fellows, fight! 

T HUS sang Joe Kirkham in a throaty tenor as 
he linked an arm in Jerry’s and pulled him down 
the gymnasium steps Thursday afternoon. Be- 
fore them went others of the players, togged and, in 
some cases, plastered and bandaged. Practice had 
been hard and rivalry keen this week and many minor 
injuries had resulted. Joe boasted a rubber kneecap 
and an ankle guard and two fingers of his left hand 
were still bound together as though for mutual sup- 
port. 


195 


KICK FORMATION 


“That's a good snorting sort of a song,” he observed, 
“but we had to swipe it from the Navy. Don't know 
what's become of our lyricists this year !” 

Jerry blinked. “I ain't got them,” he said mildly. 

“Companion of my tender years, a lyricist is not 
what you think,” responded Joe gently. “A lyricist — 
well, never mind; you probably wouldn't understand. 
Anyhow, it remains a lamentable fact that this year’s 
crop of football songs is very much on the blink. Par- 
don my reversion to Elizabethan English.” 

“Who writes them ?” asked Jerry. 

“They're generally written and composed by third 
or fourth class fellows whose patriotism is ardent and 
fresh. You see, they can't express it by punching Cum- 
bridge in the eye, so they go over to the Hall and 
punch the piano, instead, usually with one finger! I 
refer, confidant of my youthful dreams, to the original 
dirges, of which the number is extremely few. The 
best of our songs we swipe from other schools and 
colleges, a not uncommon custom, by the way. Thei 
one I just sang so melodiously is stolen bodily from 
the Naval Academy. So is another good one, the 
‘Rush them, crush them' one.” 

“Reckon I haven't heard that,” said Jerry. “Could 
you sing that malodorously, too?” 

Joe frowned. “You mistook the word, sharer of 
my secret sorrows. It was ‘melodiously'; from the 
Greek melos, signifying a sweet sound, a song. Do I 
make myself plain?” 

“You don't have to,” chuckled Jerry. “Some one 

196 


NEW PLAYS 


got ahead of you. What's the reason we-all ain’t al- 
lowed to go to the cheer meetings they’re having?” 

“I guess that’s because we might get vain hearing 
ourselves praised; might get swelled heads and not 
play so well. It’s a fine thing to be a member of the 
football team in good standing just before the big 
game, Jerry. You’re a little bit of all right then. 
You’re just smothered with respect and affection. Put 
your head out of your window and an admiring popu- 
lace cheers wildly. Stand a minute on the Hall steps 
and the entire fourth class gathers around and adores 
you. When your name is spoken at a cheer meeting 
the student body arises as one man and howls. It’s, 
great ! The day after the game you put your head out 
your window and all you get is a rain-drop down your 
neck, and if you stood all day on the Hall steps no 
one would notice you except the janitor when he came 
to sweep. To-day it’s ‘ Digit o monstrari/ to-morrow 
it’s ‘ Pax vobiscum!’ As Kingsley or some one so 
truly says, ‘So fleet the works of men! Back to the 
earth again, ancient and holy things fade like a 
dream!”’ 

Jerry observed him anxiously. “Ain’t you feeling 
well?” he asked. 

“Better than I shall when Jim Lee gets through with 
me this afternoon,” replied Joe cheerfully. “Lee has 
an idea that he’s a human battering-ram, and he comes 
at you headfirst, and he’s got a mighty solid head. 
I’ve tried all sorts of things to cure him of that trick, 
but he’s still at it. It’s a great relief to me when 
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Jump puts Harvey in there instead. Want me to 
tell you something, sympathetic schoolmate? Well, 
there’s going to be real work for us to-day. All that 
has went before will seem like the happy, care-free 
frolic of an idle hour. To-day we are to learn four nice 
new plays lately sprung from the seething brain of our 
loving coach. Believe me, Jerry, they are some plays, 
carefully designed to produce consternation in the 
stoutest breast ! After going through them twice you’ll 
be cross-eyed and bandy-legged and ready to feed the 
hand that bites you!” 

“What sort of plays are they?” asked Jerry, undis- 
mayed. 

“Well, one’s a forward-pass contraption that looks 
pretty good on the board, just as they all do until 
you try ’em. Thorne calls it a five-man forward pass. 
I don’t know why unless it’s because only four men 
can take it ! The worst I know of it is that the quarter 
has to get back at an angle and risk being trampled to 
death by three reckless backs. There’s no use in my 
trying to explain it to you, favorite friend of my 
immature years, without a yard or two of paper and 
a package of pencils. Besides, you’ll know all about 
it soon enough. You’ll know it by its dread appella- 
tion, which is Play Number 19. When you hear it 
coming, Jerry, be took very ill!” 

Jerry grinned. “You can talk more nonsense than 
any feller I ever heard,” he said. “Trouble is, you 
don’t hardly ever say anything.” 

“You’ll regret them words,” replied Joe sternly. 

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“When Thome puts you in IT1 get Tub to call 
until they pick you up and remove you on a stretcher. 
There's Norris shyly trying to attract your attention 
by shouting himself purple in the face. Don't take any 
notice of him, and we'll see if he'll bust!" 

But Jerry hurried across to where Fat was apo- 
plectically shouting and waving. “Come on, Jerry, 
we’ve got orders to do some passing. Let’s get over 
on the other side. We’ve never practiced together, 
have we ? I don’t know what the game is, but Thorne 
told me to get you and show you something about 
football." 

“Reckon I ain’t wanted for signal drill ?’’ 

“Search me! Get ten yards back, son. Further! 
That’s better. Get it now!" 

Jerry got it many times and missed it a few, and 
while he was doing so he wondered why he had been 
set to work with Norris. Norris was first-choice 
center, while Jerry could not flatter himself that he 
was more than a second-choice back. It began to look, 
Jerry told himself, as if he was expected to take a real 
part in the Cumbridge game ! Of course, he had hoped 
before this to be called on when a punting contest was 
imminent, perhaps allowed to play through ten min- 
utes of the battle, but this proceeding promised still 
greater glory! However, he didn’t let his hopes rise 
too high. 

Some twenty minutes later they were summoned 
back to the bench and a slightly breathless Norris in- 
formed Jerry that he was “all right, by jingo!" Tack- 
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ling practice followed, and then, with all hands out on 
the field, Mr. Thorne took up the new plays that, it was 
hoped, would bring confusion and despair to Cum- 
bridge. There were four of them, and they were taken 
up in order, beginning with Number 19, a forward 
pass from quarter back to any one of four men going 
around right end. Number 20 was the same play with 
the receivers bunched. Number 21 was a play that 
began as the others but developed into a forward to 
left end. Number 22 took right end from his position, 
gave him the ball from quarter back and placed him 
five yards behind center, from where, the backs causing 
a diversion by running laterally to the right and then 
turning in, he threw to left end. 

The plays were first carefully explained by the coach 
and then were tried out at a walk. When they had 
been performed smoothly in that manner they were 
speeded up. All this took time and so it was late when 
the second team was summoned. Against the latter 
only one of the new plays proved very successful. 
That was Number 22. Of the others, 20 was dropped 
forthwith, 19 showed promise and 21 worked well 
when it followed 19. Like most of the others who 
had taken part in practice that afternoon, Jerry was 
pretty well tuckered when Coach Thorne called a halt 
and sent them trailing off to the gymnasium. 

When he reached Number 7 Baldwin he was sur- 
prised to find the room in possession of Ted Ingraham. 
Ted greeted him eagerly, jumping from his chair and 
meeting him midway between it and the door. “Where 
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have you been?” he demanded impatiently. “I’ve been 
waiting hours for you!” 

“Why didn’t you come over to the gym?” asked 
Jerry. “What’s up?” 

“Purves and Mansfield and two or three others are 
going out to the Cabin ! I thought you ought to know, 
Jerry.” 

“Going out to the Cabin!” Jerry seated himself 
and regarded Ted wonderingly. “When? How 
come ?” 

“This evening. Now. They asked me to go along, 
but I said I couldn’t.” 

“Must be some mistake,” answered Jerry, frowning. 
“I told Jordan he couldn’t have the Cabin. Maybe 
you misunderstood, Ted.” 

“Misunderstood nothing! Purves didn’t tell me 
they were going there; said they were just going to 
have a picnic in the woods; but Mansfield let the cat 
out of the bag. They think you won’t know anything 
about it.” 

“But it’s locked !” protested Jerry. 

“What of it? Can’t they pry a hasp off? Purves 
wouldn’t let a little thing like breaking and entering 
keep him from a lark! Well, I’ve told you. You 
don’t need to believe it if you don’t want to !” 

Ted sounded slightly aggrieved, for there still re- 
mained a suggestion of incredulity on Jerry’s puzzled 
countenance. 

“I’m right much obliged,” replied Jerry. “Reckon 
they mean to have supper out there?” 

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“Of course! That's what they’re going for. I 
came right over to put you wise, but you stayed out 
so long ” 

“Yes, Mr. Thome kept us sort of late. You could 
have come down to the field or over to ” 

“I didn’t like to. I’m not a student here, and I 
don’t like to shove in places like I was. Well, what 
are you going to do ?” 

“I don’t know,” said Jerry. “Reckon there ain’t 
much of anything I can do. It’s pretty late, and I 
reckon Jordan and the rest of them are there by now. 
I might go out and tell them to go away, but maybe 
they wouldn’t.” 

Ted grinned. “I’ll bet they wouldn’t! More likely 
they’d invite you to supper!” 

Jerry nodded. “Yes, and I’d likely be fool enough 
to tell them it was all right,” he answered sheepishly. 
“Just the same, he ain’t got any right to do it, Ted, 
and — and I don’t like it.” 

“Of course he hasn’t,” agreed Ted. “It’s just like 
the cheeky beggar, too. Look here, I thought that 
maybe we could get a crowd and catch them right in 
the middle of it and pitch ’em all out. What do you 
say?” 

Jerry shook his head. “That would mean a fight, 
and faculty might hear of it and not let me go there 
any more. Besides, I don’t know where we could 
get a crowd. Tom couldn’t come, nor Joke, neither, 
and ” 

“Oh, all right!” Ted jumped up impatiently. “I 
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told you, anyway. Of course, if you want those yaps 
using your things and breaking ’em and all that it’s 
not my funeral ! I’ll beat it over, I reckon. Must be 
five and after.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Jerry. “There ain’t any 
hurry. Let me think, Ted.” Presently, as Jerry’s 
thinking evidently didn’t lead to anything, Ted asked : 

“Where’s Tom?” 

“He and Joke have gone to Annapolis,” muttered 
Jerry. Silence fell again. Ted waited another period 
and then : 

“Well?” he demanded. 

“I was just pondering,” said Jerry. “Reckon if you 
and I went out there now we’d just about catch them 
at supper, eh?” 

“You and I?” ejaculated Ted. “What could we do 
against that crowd? There are five of them at least, 
Jerry.” 

“I know. Were they going to take food out with 
them?” 

“Sure! Steak and onions. Reckon they mean to 
use your coffee, though.” 

Jerry chuckled. “I’m right fond of steak and on- 
ions,” he reflected. “How about you?” 

“I like them, yes, but if you think I’m going out 
there and eat with those yaps ” 

“I ain’t suggesting anything like that,” laughed 
Jerry. “But you wouldn’t mind eating steak and on- 
ions if those fellows weren’t there, would you?” He 
jumped up and made for the door. “You wait here 
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while I get leave of absence, Ted. I'll be back in a 

jiffy” 

A quarter of an hour later they left Baldwin in a 
slightly surreptitious fashion and made their way across 
to the stable. There Ted remained outside, custodian 
of a bundle that showed palely in the dusk. From 
the stable came vague sounds, and then, at the end of 
five or six minutes, Jerry emerged and the two passed 
around the tennis courts and made their way to the 
road, a dim ribbon of gray in the deepening twilight. 

“Did you find everything ?” asked Ted hoarsely, in 
the manner of a conspirator. 

Jerry nodded and patted a bulging pocket. “Yes," 
he answered. “We’ve got to get along right smart, 
though, if we aim to be there in time." 

There wasn’t much conversation on the way. The 
road got darker and more uncertain, for the sky was 
clouded and there was no moon. Once Ted, his 
thoughts straying, wandered off into a ditch and came 
a cropper, but fortunately there was no water where 
he lighted and save for hurt feelings and some clay 
stains he was no worse. Where the path to the Cabin 
branched off Jerry debated silently a moment on the 
advisability of making use of the lantern that was con- 
cealed there. Finally they went on without it, Jerry 
leading the way and following the little path with re- 
markable certainty. Crossing the brook was doubtful 
work, for it was as dark as pitch by then, but they 
did cross, and that without misadventure, and halted 
in silence on the farther side. Between the trees ahead 
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they could see the light in the Cabin and they could 
hear voices plainly. Jerry sighed his relief. 

“They ain’t begun to eat yet,” he whispered. “If 
they had they wouldn’t be so noisy. Reckon they’re 
just getting through with cooking. Don’t make any 
noise, Ted.” 

He started off beside the brook for a way and then 
turned and approached the Cabin from the rear. When 
they were some sixty or seventy feet distant he stopped 
and Ted laid down his bundle. Then in the darkness 
followed a peculiar proceeding. Between two saplings 
some four yards apart Jerry stretched a cord, drawing 
it taut until, when he picked it, it twanged resonantly. 
A tin can, in the bottom of which Jerry had made a 
small round hole just big enough to force the cord 
through, completed the instrument. Jerry pulled the 
can a fraction of an inch away from where it de- 
pended, and as the string, which had been carefully 
coated with resin, scraped its way through the hole 
a deep, vibrant sound brought a startled “Gosh!” from 
Ted. Jerry chuckled noiselessly. 

“Sounds all right,” he whispered. “You wait until 
I get over there where the light shines from that back 
window, Ted. Then you take the can in one hand 
and walk along the cord with it slowly. Don’t pull 
it fast, because if you do it don’t sound so creepy. 
Sort of make it moan. You’ll get the hang of it. If 
they run toward you you’d better have your knife ready 
and cut it, so they won’t find it and know what’s up. 
But I don’t reckon they will!” Jerry was already 

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fumbling at the bundle in the darkness. “Here’s 
yours,” he said. “Don’t put it on yet, though. Wait 
till I hoot like an owl. Then pull it around you and 
sort of wave your arms and move down the slope 
toward the brook. If they try to catch you, drop it and 
double back and then fall flat. They’ll never find you. 
All right. I’m off. Wait till you see me over there 
in the light.” 

Jerry went so silently that, after the first moment, 
Ted heard not so much as a rustle. He doubted if all 
their precautions toward silence were quite necessary, 
however, for there was considerable noise inside the 
Cabin; laughter and some singing and the occasional 
rattle of cooking utensils. The single window that 
gave onto the woods in the back afforded him no view 
of the occupants, though, for the stove and the table 
were out of range. Now and then a shadow dimmed 
the yellow glow of the casement slightly, but no figure 
appeared. Sparks floated upwards from the little 
chimney at intervals as the fire was stirred or re- 
plenished and floated high in the still air to die among 
the tree tops. Ted watched the little path of light 
from the window until, where it fell against the slope of 
the next knoll, there suddenly appeared in its dim 
radiance a white-sheeted figure, uncertain of outline, 
ghostly, that made even Ted shudder a bit as he looked. 
Then, recalling his duty, he found the can and drew 
it along the cord. 

The sound that resulted almost stood his hair on 
end ! It was a moaning wail of anguish that, had he 
206 


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heard it in the forest at night, would, he assured him- 
self, have made him take to his heels instantly! It 
was so startling that he involuntarily dropped his hand 
from the can, and in the succeeding moment he became 
aware of an unwonted silence inside the hut. Not a 
sound broke the stillness and Ted could hear his own 
heart thumping as he found the can again and drew 
forth another shuddering groan of anguish. As he did 
so he looked to the right. At the end of the path of 
light something pallid and seemingly supernatural 
writhed and gestured, fading and reappearing mys- 
teriously. At times it looked slim and wraithlike, 
stretching upwards into the gloom of the woods, and 
then, strangely, it broadened and shortened grotesquely ; 
but at all times it was a thing to strike terror to any 
save the stoutest of hearts ! 

The square of yellow light was cut off. Ted saw, 
dimly, heads at the window. With a fine sense of 
effect, he slowed the can in its progress along the cord 
and the dismal moaning ended in a shuddery sob. In- 
stantly the casement at the rear of the Cabin was va- 
cated. The light flooded forth again. There came, 
even above the sound of the tin can and the resined 
cord, the hearty crash of an overturned table ! At the' 
same moment the cry of a hoot owl broke on the air 
and Ted abandoning his instrument of mental torture, 
seized the sheet that Jerry had left him and hastily drew 
it around him. As he did so the unmistakable crash 
of the Cabin door came to him, followed by the sound 
of footsteps in flight down the farther side of the knoll ! 

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He ran swiftly off in the direction that Jerry had indi- 
cated, but it is very doubtful if his performance as 
a ghost was appreciated, for, save when one of the 
fleeing youths tripped and fell, to roll most of the way 
down the slope, and gave voice to a shrill shriek of 
mingled dismay and despair, the marauders fled si- 
lently and with never a backward look ! The crashing 
of underbrush gave way to agonized flounderings as 
the quintet reached the brook and went into and 
through it, there was one faint gurgle, much choking 
and coughing, the snapping of distant branches and 
then silence fell over the scene ! 


CHAPTER XXI 


UNINVITED GUESTS 


P RESENTLY Ted stopped laughing, separated 
himself from the tree to which he had been 
clinging desperately for several minutes, and 
disentangled himself from the folds of Jerry’s sheet. 
He had tried very hard to catch up with the terror- 
stricken Jordan and his companions in order, as he 
explained later to Jerry, to throw one final scare into 
them, but, handicapped by his ghost’s costume, which 
got horribly clinging and impeding, he never had a 
chance ! He had collided with numerous trees and been 
slashed by many branches, and he had laughed so much 
that he was weak in the knees, but he was thoroughly 
pleased and satisfied with the adventure's outcome as 
he made his way back to the Cabin. 

Inside, he found Jerry looking somewhat ruefully 
at the contents of a frying pan which he held to the 
light of a lantern. Across the overturned table lay 
the sheet he had worn and over the floor were dis- 
tributed tin dishes and cups, slices of bread and nu- 
merous other objects, amongst which were two caps 
that had been forgotten in the sudden and enthusiastic 
exodus. 


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“Looks like we were a bit late,” said Jerry. “They 
left this steak on the stove and it’s mighty nigh burned 
to a crisp!” 

“Let's see.” Ted examined the charred object and 
poked it with a fork. “Huh, that's all right,” he said. 
“I like my steak well-done.” 

“Well, you’re sure going to get it that way!” an- 
swered Jerry. Then he pointed the frying pan ac- 
cusingly at the stove. “Look what they did,” he said. 
“Used my potatoes !” 

Ted gazed at them appreciatively. “Glad they did,” 
he chuckled. “We wouldn’t have had any if they 
hadn’t. And, gee, look at the fried onions! Sort of 
— sort of crispy, but ” 

“Crispy!” snorted Jerry. “They’re almost burned 
up ! Those fellows haven’t any more idea of cooking 
than — than ” 

“Oh, never mind, Jerry! Let’s get the table set 
again and fall to. Honest, I’m hungry enough to eat 
anything. Don’t object to having your bread a bit 
soiled, do you? Give me a hand here. Good thing 
these dishes weren’t china, I’ll say!” 

Jerry’s first act, however, was to close and secure 
the door. “I don’t reckon they’ve got any idea of 
coming back,” he explained grimly, “but it’s just as 
well not to take any chances ! They pried that staple 
out, but I can drive it back again.” Then he gave a 
hand to righting the overturned banquet board and 
rescuing the things from the floor and in a jiffy two 
very hungry youths were satisfying that hunger with 
210 


UNINVITED GUESTS 


steak and onions, potatoes and bread and steaming hot 
coffee. 

“They sure did cook this steak a bit too long,” said 
Ted, “but there’s plenty of it and we can work around 
the burned places. Reckon there’s most four pounds 
here, Jerry.” 

Jerry nodded, his mouth too full to permit of speech, 
and Ted, pouring himself a second cup of coffee, went 
on with a chuckle. “Reckon those fellows have stopped 
running yet?” he asked. “Gosh, the way they lit out 
of here and beat it down the hill was beautiful! Say, 
what do you suppose they really thought, Jerry?” 

Jerry grinned as he speared a potato on his fork. 
“Reckon,” he replied, “they didn’t stop long enough to 
do any thinking, Ted. They’re doing that now. About 
this time they’re deciding that what they heard was 
a cow and that what they saw was maybe another 
cow, and each one is explaining that he wouldn’t have 
run if the rest hadn’t! But I’ll bet there isn’t one of 
them that’s saying "Let’s go back !’ ” 

""Reckon not!” laughed Ted. ""What time is it? 
Gee, it’s nearly half-past six! They’ll never make 
school in time for supper, Jerry!” 

""Well, I ain’t worriting none,” answered the other 
placidly. ""They hadn’t any business breaking in here 
that way and making free with my potatoes and 
coffee!” 

There was, as it afterwards proved, no dessert, but, 
as Jerry inquired, where would they have put it if 
there had been? So, finally, they dragged themselves 
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protestingly from the table, washed up and put the 
Cabin in order and, with their costumes in a bundle 
again, put out the lanterns — all save one — and de- 
parted. One lantern went with them as far as the 
road and made the return journey much easier. It 
was Ted who broached the subject of publicity. 

“Going to let Purves know?” he asked on the way 
back. 

Jerry considered a moment. Then : “Reckon not,” 
he decided. “If they found out for certain that they’d 
been hoaxed they might try it again some time. As it 
stands now, Ted, they won’t want to. They may say 
it was cows, but they’ll never be certain enough to go 
there again after dark !” 

“All right,” agreed Ted, somewhat disappointed, 
however. “I won’t say anything. But — but, gee, I’d 
sure like to!” 

Jerry and Ted parted at the landing, Ted hurrying 
off in his canoe to explain his absence from supper 
and Jerry returning to Baldwin. There he replaced 
the borrowed sheets and then did some studying before 
Tom returned with Joe and Tub. The first two had 
supped in town and were in fine fettle, but Tub was 
pessimistic and gloomy, and when the conversation 
settled on the subject of the afternoon’s new plays 
Tub was strongly opposed to them, and told why at 
some length. As always, Joe instantly accepted the 
challenge and took the other side of the argument and 
for nearly an hour Jerry sleepily listened to the debate. 

212 


UNINVITED GUESTS 


Tom offered few opinions, but contented himself with 
egging the disputants on. Like many former argu- 
ments conducted in Number 7, this one reached an in- 
decisive end, and Joe, yawning, declared himself off 
to slumber. 

“You coming, Tub?” he asked. 

“Sure am !” 

“Get a move on then. Night, Jerry. Night, Tom. 
Retain your precious ignorance and be happy. As the 
poet hath it, ‘Be good ’ ” 

“The poet says come on to bed,” interrupted Tub 
coldly. 

“ ‘Be good, sweet child, and let who will be clever/ 
Isn't that it ? And then something about — about some- 
thing else, and ” 

“For the love of mud, come on!” wailed Tub, shov- 
ing Joe doorward. 

“Yes, Officer, remove that man!” commanded Tom 
sternly. 

“ ‘And so make life, death and the vast forever,' ” 
chanted Joe, resisting removal, but unsuccessfully, 
“ ‘one grand, sweet song !' ” 

There was a final scuffle, the door crashed shut and 
quiet reigned. Tom's grin faded and he yawned widely. 
Then he looked across at Jerry, and : “What do you 
think of the new plays ?” he asked. 

“Who, me?” came sleepily from the bed. 

“Yes, Little Bright Eyes. What's your opinion? 
Or haven't you any? Not that I care much, you know, 
but just by way of conversation.” 

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“I reckon they’re all right, a couple of them. That 
Number 19 is too — too — too ” 

“What do you think you are? A locomotive? Too 
what?” 

“I couldn’t think of it. Too complicated. Looks 
to me like it’s too slow, too.” 

“Well, I didn’t see it, of course. Maybe you’re 
right. Did it go at all to-day?” 

“A couple of times. Reckon it might go at first 
and then the other team would sense it.” 

“Why don’t you tell Thorne?” laughed Tom. 

“He wouldn’t like it, would he?” inquired Jerry 
earnestly. 

“Well, he might be slightly huffed, unless you had 
something better to offer,” answered Tom, chuckling. 
Jerry blinked at the ceiling a moment. Then he said : 
“Reckon I’ve got a way to make a forward pass that’s 
better than that, anyhow.” 

“You have?” 

“Mh-mh.” 

“Then get up out of that, you lazy chump, and show 
me ! Of course you just think you have, but I’d like 
to see it. Here’s some paper. Got your pen? Well, 
here’s mine. Sit down and draw your picture.” 

Jerry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sank into 
a chair by the table. “Maybe it ain’t no — any good,” 
he murmured, “but it’s like this.” 

Five minutes later Tom took the piece of scrawled 
paper from him and laid it between the leaves of a 
book. 


214 


UNINVITED GUESTS 


“I’m not a football expert, Jeremiah,” he said, “and 
I guess there must be something wrong with that play. 
If there isn’t, why hasn’t Thorne used it?” 

“Maybe it ain’t any better than lots of others,” said 
Jerry. “I reckon there’s about a hundred plays pos- 
sible, and most of them don’t amount to anything. 
Likely that’s one of them.” 

“Must be,” allowed Tom. “And yet ” He 

stopped, frowned thoughtfully and rescued the rough 
diagram that Jerry had drawn from its concealment. 
“I don’t know much football, as I say, but I 
know enough to tell you that this looks like a per- 
fectly plausible play. How did you happen to think 
of it?” 

“I was watching those other plays this afternoon 
and it looked to me like a couple of them were too — 
too ” 

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah, I never can remember that word! There 
was one Mr. Thorne called Number 19. I reckon it 
would puzzle the enemy all right, but it has to be 
worked mighty smooth or else the fellers get all tangled 
up with each other. The two half backs and the full 
back have to run diagonally forward toward the end 
of the line and the quarter back has to run diagonally 
back toward the end of the line ” 

Tom held a hand to his forehead. “That’s too much 
for me!” 

“Well, that’s the way it is, and you see the quarter 

back has to cross the others ” 

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"Complicated is exactly the word for it!” laughed 
Tom. "They get mixed up, do they?” 

"Sort of : leastways, they did sometimes. I’m think- 
ing that if it was in a game and every one was sort 
of excited they’d be likely to get right tarrigated.” 

"Right — what?” 

"Tarrigated,” replied Jerry. 

"What’s that mean? Confused? Gee, you have 
some great words, Jeremiah!” Tom looked at the 
paper in his hand. "Well, this filing of yours looks 
simple enough. Don’t believe any one would get 'tarri- 
gated’ pulling that off. I’m going to show this to Hal 
Mansfield to-morrow and see what he thinks of it.” 

Jerry looked dubious. "I don’t reckon I’d do that,” 
he demurred. 

"Why not ? Or, as you’d say, ‘how come ?’ ” 

"I reckon it ain’t any good, Tom. I didn’t aim to 
have any one see it.” 

"What you aimed makes no never mind, boy. You 
get to bed and leave it to me,” replied Tom firmly. 
"Of course it stands to reason that there’s something 
wrong with it that you and I don’t see, but then again 
there may not be, and we don’t want to miss any 
tricks. Anyhow, Hal will know.” 

Jerry didn’t let Captain Mansfield’s verdict keep 
him awake a moment after his head touched the pillow, 
and the next morning he had practically forgotten all 
about that diagramed play of his, and, since it hap- 
pened that he didn’t encounter Tom between breakfast 
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UNINVITED GUESTS 


and dinner, it was not recalled to his mind. Even at 
dinner the subject was not introduced, and it was not 
until Jerry reached the gymnasium at a little before 
three that he heard any more of it. Then, having got 
into his togs — there would be a half hour before the 
beginning of practice, and he meant to devote it to 
trying some punts — he encountered Manager Naughton 
on the stairs. Naughton constantly wore an expres- 
sion of worry and harassment these days, and spoke 
in brief and hurried words. 

“ 'Lo, Benson ! Thorne see you d’rector’s room ri’ 
'way !" 

He plunged on down the stairs agitatedly, leaving 
Jerry blinking after him and trying to make sense of 
the message. When he succeeded he crossed the cor- 
ridor and knocked at the partly opened door with little 
joy. There were so many things the coach could say 
to him that he didn't want to hear! 

“Come in !" Mr. Thorne and Hal Mansfield looked 
up from the paper they were bending over as Jerry en- 
tered. “Oh, that you, Benson?" asked the coach 
crisply. He thrust out a foot, hooked it about the leg 
of a chair and pulled it toward the flat desk. “Sit 
down. This your work ?" 

Jerry saw with surprise that approached consterna- 
tion that the paper was that on which he had rudely 
drawn his play last evening. He nodded. “Yes, sir, 
I reckon," he answered. 

“Don't you know ?" demanded Mr. Thome, frown- 
ing. 


217 


KICK FORMATION 


Jerry gulped and again nodded. “Yes, sir, I reck — 
yes, sir!” 

Mansfield chuckled and Mr. Thorne frowned again 
and thrust a pencil in Jerry’s fingers. “All right. Ex- 
plain it, Benson.” 

“Sir?” 

“Explain it! You worked it out, didn’t you? Well, 
let’s hear about it. I want to know if I’ve got it right.” 

“Yes, sir. Well, you see, this feller here ” 

“Quarter back? Go ahead.” 

“He grabs the ball from Fat Norris and steps out a 
bit ” 

“Why?” 

“Because he’s going to throw it to the left half back, 
and left half back he goes behind this feller — full 
back — and if he didn’t full back would be in the way.” 

“I see. Then what?” 

“Well, then this right half back he scoots around 
here like this. And ” 

“Outside tackle?” 

“I reckon so.” Jerry glanced doubtfully at the 
coach, but the latter merely nodded. Jerry took a fresh, 
breath and went on. “And this right end he goes, 
too, and the pair of them go back a ways, maybe ten 
or fifteen yards and catch the ball that this feller 
throws to them. One of ’em does, I mean. You see, 
they sort of spread out like.” 

“What about the rest of the team?” asked the coach 
inexorably. “What do they do ?” 

Jerry studied the diagram for a moment. “Well, of 
218 


UNINVITED GUESTS 


course, these fellers in the middle they hold the other 
fellers back. Then the quarter back, after he's tossed 
the ball to the left half back, he runs out here and 
keeps the end on the other team from getting back 
to worry the feller that's making the throw. It — it's, 
a forward-pass play." Jerry looked anxiously at Mr. 
Thorne. Possibly, he reflected, he had delayed that 
information too long. But the coach didn’t express, 
surprise. Probably he had already surmised it. 

“A double-pass forward," said the coach. “All right. 
Now what about the full back and the left end?" 

“The full back runs around the other end, this way, 
to make it look like the ball was going there, and the 
right — no, left end, he blocks his man a minute and 
then he goes through and tries to get around to where 
these fellers are to maybe help them." 

“You have only two men, then, eligible to take the 
throw?" asked Mansfield. 

“I reckon so. Maybe this feller — this quarter back 
might take it if no one give — gave him any trouble,"' 
added Jerry naively. 

“He might, Benson," agreed the coach. “But he 
would have to be certain that he was at least a yard 
behind the line when he took the ball from center. On 
the whole, I think he may be eliminated as a receiver 
of the pass. But what about your left end, boy? Why 
can’t he be in on it ? What’s to keep him from taking 
the throw if he’s uncovered?" 

Jerry looked puzzled. “I reckon he could, sir, only 
it looked to me like he’d ought to keep the other tackle 
219 


KICK FORMATION 


from coming back here and messing things up. If he 
went right on down the field this feller would come 
through, wouldn’t he?” 

“I’m afraid he would,” agreed the coach, smiling, 
“but why not send your full back across to look after 
the opposing tackle and end? Then let your left end 
go down and make a third man eligible for the pass. 
Left half would then have three points at which to 
throw: one here, well out; that’s the right half; one 
here, back of tackle position; that’s right end; and 
one over here on the other side of the field, the left 
end. Doesn’t that make your play more likely to suc- 
ceed? It provides three chances instead of two.” 

Jerry nodded. “I reckon so, sir,” he agreed. But 
he didn’t sound convinced, and there was a moment 
of silence while all three studied the plan before them. 
Finally Hal Mansfield spoke. 

“Coach, I think Benson’s way’s the best. Now look 

here Hold on, let’s make a new diagram.” He 

took a fresh sheet of paper and drew rapidly. “Here’s 
how I see it, sir. If Cumbridge suspects a forward 
she’ll play her ends five yards back. If she does her 
left end is out of the play so far as the thrower is con- 
cerned. That leaves only her left tackle to come 
through on him. Well, we provide for him by sending 
quarter across. He makes the throw to left half and 
then runs over here to block off the tackle. That 
makes that end pretty secure. But if we send our 
left end down the field we’re depending on the full 
220 


UNINVITED GUESTS 


back to take the opposing right tackle. They'll meet 
back of the line and if full back misses him " 

“Hold on," interrupted the coach. “When does full 
back start?" 

They turned to Jerry. “He don't start until left 
half has the ball," he answered firmly. “I figure that 
if right half and right end start when the ball starts 
the other fellers are going to say 'That's a fake sure 
as shooting,' and they'll wait and see where the ball 
goes. But when the ball gets to left half back here, 
and full back, who's standing almost in front of him, 
sets out to run the other way, why, those other fellers 
are going to get the idea that the ball's gone with him, 
or, anyway, that it's going that same way." 

“Sounds fair," mused the coach. “Your idea, Mans- 
field, is that it's better to make the throw certain even 
if it's confined to only two receivers ?" 

“Yes, sir. I believe it's more than half the battle 
to have the thrower protected until he has got the 
ball away. When you have to side-step and dodge op- 
ponents who have come through on you, you just can't 
judge direction or distance properly. You're hurried 
and you take chances. I think it's better to have two 
men on the receiving end than three in this case. Any- 
way, I'd certainly like to see this play tried out that 
way." 

“Maybe you're right. Yes, I think you are. It 
looks to me as if these two men ought to be able to 
get away and stay free long enough for the ball to 
reach them. It looks like a pretty quick pass, and it 
221 


KICK FORMATION 


certainly has the merit of being unexpected. There’s 
mighty little in the start of it to suggest a forward. 

In fact, it has all the appearance of By Jove! 

Look here, fellows, why can’t that develop into a hidden 
punt as well as a pass ? See here, our ends start down 
when the ball is snapped, Benson, or whoever’s playing 
left half, moves back to kicking position, quarter 
blocks the center after making the pass, full back 
guards on the left and right half on the right! By 
Jupiter, that’s a play that will fool them ! Come on !” 
Mr. Thorne seized the diagram and thrust it into a 
pocket. “Let’s try it out!” 


CHAPTER XXII 


A NARROW MARGIN 

A T half-past five that Friday afternoon the North 
Bank first and second teams drew apart from 
each other, weary and breathless, and heard 
gratefully the voice of the trainer: “Get your blankets 
on, every one of you, and beat it in! All through, 
ain’t you, Coach?” 

“All through! Every one in on the run!” 

On the run, indeed ! Jerry, who had played but 
fifteen minutes of the long scrimmage, had all he could 
do to jog, and there were many who disdained to make 
the least pretense of obedience. That had been the 
hardest day’s work of the season. Usually on the eve 
of a contest as important as the Brackett’s game the 
first-choice fellows were handled, if not with gloves, 
at least with consideration. But this afternoon regu- 
lars and substitutes had toiled equally hard, and there 
were many murmurs of protest and disgust in the 
locker room afterwards. Jerry, tiredly struggling with 
his shoe laces, overheard a conversation beside him. 
It was Furchgott who began it. 

“That guy’s crazy,” he confided to Gus Ashley. 
223 


KICK FORMATION 


“How’s he think a fellow’s going to get through to- 
morrow’s game if he kills him to-day?” 

“You didn’t work much,” answered Ashley. 
“What’s your kick?” 

“I worked a-plenty,” growled the substitute guard. 
“Anyway, some of you fellows will be N. G. to- 
morrow, and it won’t be any one’s fault but Thome’s.” 

“Reckon we can stand it,” said Ashley cheerfully. 
“Reckon we’re all pretty fit, Furchy. After all, the 
worst’s over. Next week’s just easy stuff. What did 
you think of the new play?” 

“Oh, all right, I suppose. Funny time to spring new 
stuff, though. There’s only four work days left.” 

“And about seven work nights,” chuckled the other. 
“Don’t forget our jolly little blackboard parties, old 
son!” 

“I know, but just the same you can’t learn four or 
five new plays and a new set of signals in a week! 
He’s crazy, Thorne is.” 

“We’ll see a week from to-morrow. Let’s hope for 
the best, you blamed croaker. Get up off that towel !” 

Jerry watched the two push their way through the 
throng to the showers. He wondered if Furchgott 
was right, if the new play that had been introduced 
with what seemed excellent success had been found 
too late. Mr. Thorne had worked hard with it and 
the first team had taken to it eagerly, and when it had 
been thrice tried on the second it had worked well 
each time. Once Jerry himself had made the pass, 


A NARROW MARGIN 


and he had shot the ball over to Ashley for a fine gain 
of nearly fifteen yards and had glowed with exultation. 
Then, two plays later, faking another forward first, he 
had dropped the pigskin and punted it high and far to 
the confusion of the second team quarter, who, antici- 
pating another forward pass, had edged down toward 
the line. Later, Omstead and Gray had participated 
in the play, and each time it had caught the opponent 
napping and gained territory. It would, reflected 
Jerry, be too bad if the play must be discarded for 
want of time to teach it. 

But that fear was laid that evening when the players 
gathered in the rowing room in the gymnasium for 
what Gus Ashley had called a blackboard party. For 
Play Number 23 was amongst those that Coach Thome 
gave much attention to and it wasn’t abandoned until 
every fellow there understood it thoroughly. “I con- 
sider this the best of the forward-pass plays,” said 
Mr. Thorne, “and Tve decided to use it instead of 
Number 19. So we have four plays of this kind left: 
the ordinary short pass across the center of the line, 
the forward pass from end to end, the forward pass 
from quarter to end, and this forward pass by half 
back from ordinary formation. Of the three the last 
offers the best protection for the thrower and is con- 
sequently to my mind the more promising. I may tell 
you, as a matter of interest, that it was brought to me 
by one of the players and that I claim no credit for it. 
Now does every one understand it? Are there any 
questions ?” 


225 


KICK FORMATION 


Accusing glances were exchanged by the players, but 
none acknowledged the authorship of Play Number 
23. Jerry was relieved to find that Captain Mansfield 
had not told. It seemed to him that the invention of 
a play by one who knew as little football as he did 
savored of impertinence! But, of course, the secret 
didn’t remain a secret long, and when Jerry reached 
the gymnasium the next afternoon much good-natured 
joshing awaited him. Purves Jordan, however, was 
not included among the good-natured ones. Jordan 
had just about abandoned hope of getting placed in 
the Cumbridge game and held Jerry to blame, and he 
had nothing flattering to say of the new play. Chang- 
ing into his football togs, Jerry could not help over- 
hearing a conversation between Jordan, Furchgott 
and Summer field, although the three were in the next 
alcove and a double tier of lockers intervened. 

“Who says it’s Benson’s play?” demanded Jordan. 
“It’s as old as the hills! All he did was swipe it from 
somewhere.” 

“Well, there aren’t any new plays, for that matter,” 
said Summerfield. “But I reckon Benson thinks it’s 
new. I don’t believe he stole it. We’ve never used 
it before, anyway.” 

“Well, others have,” said Jordan, and Furchgott 
threw in a corroborative “Sure!” 

“Where’d you ever see it?” asked Summerfield sus- 
piciously. 

“I didn’t say I’d seen it; not played, I mean. But 
it’s been used lots of times. Why, it stands to reason 
226 


A NARROW MARGIN 


that there’s nothing new in having the half back make 
a forward pass !” 

“No, but there’s something new, maybe, in having 
him make it in the way he does in this play. The 
beauty of it is that Cumbridge won’t know it is a for- 
ward. It looks like a split play with full back taking 
the ball around left end.” 

“If it fools Cumbridge I’ll eat my hat,” declared 
Jordan. 

“Oh, you’re sore because you didn’t think of it 
yourself,” laughed the substitute right half. “Stop 
knocking, Jordan.” 

There was more, perhaps, but Jerry didn’t hear it, 
for Billy Conger playfully smote him on the back with 
his head guard just then and addressed him as “the 
Board of Strategy.” “That’s a nice little play of 
yours, Jerry,” said Conger. “Didn’t know you were 
a football general. I tried that sort of thing last year, 
but every play I made up had been discovered by 
Walter Camp the last year of the Civil War!” 

“I reckon maybe this play ain’t new,” said Jerry 
apologetically. “I heard a fellow say it ain’t, anyway.” 

“It’s new around here, though, so you should worry. 
If we can get a few first downs with it, it’s new enough 
for us.” 

Much to his surprise, Jerry started the game that 
afternoon at left half. There was a fairly stiff breeze 
blowing down the field, and North Bank, winning the 
toss, yielded the ball and chose the east goal and what 
benefit might accrue from the wind. Brackett’s kick- 
227 


KICK FORMATION 


off was short and the teams lined up for the first 
scrimmage on the Light Blue’s twenty-eight. One at- 
tempt at the left of center yielded three yards and then 
Tub Keller called for a punt. Jerry's toe sent the 
pigskin down to Brackett’s twenty and Mansfield 
stopped the opposing quarter before he had dug his 
cleats twice. Brackett’s made eight yards on three 
tries and again punted short. Near her forty-yard 
line North Bank gave the ball to Duveen for two 
tries at the center that yielded but three yards. Keller 
circled right end for three more and again Jerry 
punted. This time Brackett’s broke through and hur- 
ried the kick and the ball went slicing off to the right 
and rolled out; at the enemy’s thirty-two. Brackett’s 
worked back to midfield on three plunges and a forward 
pass that caught the Light Blue napping and then, 
punted to the opponent’s eighteen. Although the kick 
had distance, it was too fast for the Brackett’s ends 
and Butterfield brought it back to the twenty-seven 
before he was stopped. Ashley made six around left 
and Duveen hammered the line for two more. Jerry 
found a hole between left guard and tackle and barely 
got the distance. Ashley secured four on a crisscross 
that sent him close off left tackle, Jerry failed to gain 
on a straight buck at the same place and Keller tried 
a heave to Mansfield over the center. Mansfield 
touched the ball but failed to catch it and Jerry punted 
on fourth down. 

This time the ball sailed nobly to the enemy’s goal 
line, aided by the wind, and the enemy back was 
228 


A NARROW MARGIN 


downed on his thirteen. That was too close for Brack- 
ett’s comfort, and she opened her line and tried two 
forwards, the first a double pass that sent the ball 
well down the field to a waiting end. Mansfield spoiled 
that, however, and the ball grounded. The second at- 
tempt went to the other side of the gridiron and over 
the head of the catcher. Forced to punt, Brackett’s 
toed the ball from just inside her goal line and, by 
keeping it low, managed to send it to her forty, where 
Keller caught and ran back twelve before he was 
thrown. Two tries at the line found the enemy invul- 
nerable and Jerry once more went back to kicking 
position. This time a short punt was necessary, for 
he was standing close to the enemy’s forty-yard line. 
The result was all that could have been wished, for 
the ball came down in the right-hand corner of the 
field and Brackett’s half fumbled it near the five yards, 
recovered it and was dropped in his tracks by Butter- 
field. North Bank was howling for a score, but 
Brackett’s, although at bay on her threshold, had pos- 
session of the ball. She made two through Norris and 
added two more past Hickson and again punted, this 
time from behind her goal line. The kicker was anx- 
ious, and anxiety defeated him, for the ball went almost 
straight in the air and when it landed it was North 
Bank’s on the nineteen yards. Ashley again profited 
by a crisscross, plunging past left tackle to the enemy’s 
fifteen, and Duveen got two more at the right of center. 
Then Tub Keller signaled for “ 21 ” Jerry followed 
Ashley and Duveen around right end, Keller ran back 


KICK FORMATION 


with the ball, side-stepped a tackle who had leaked 
through, and threw across the line to Mansfield. The 
captain, although threatened by a frantic quarter back, 
made the catch and circled around to the goal, placing 
the ball squarely between the posts. And North Bank 
cheered delightedly. Omstead came in for the try-at- 
goal and Jerry yielded his head guard sorrowfully. As 
he accepted a blanket from Riordan, Coach Thome 
nodded to him from the end of the bench. 

“Good work, Benson,” he called. 

Jerry watched Omstead convert the 6 into a 7 and 
added his cheer to the others, but he did wish he might 
have stayed in! The quarter ended a moment later 
and the teams changed fields. 

There was no more scoring in that half, although, 
aided by the wind, Brackett’s twice threatened the 
Light Blue’s goal. That quarter proved that the ene- 
my’s line was too strong for North Bank and that on 
the other hand, North Bank, from tackle to tackle, 
was too much for Brackett’s. Neither team was able 
to make much headway on straight line bucking, and 
plays off tackle, wide runs around the end and forward 
passes could alone be relied on to advance either eleven. 
The half ended with the ball on North Bank’s seven- 
teen yards in her possession. 

Coach Thorne was dissatisfied with the team’s show- 
ing and said so frankly between the halves, and in the 
third quarter the Light Blue displayed rather more 
punch. Yet it was in that quarter that Brackett’s ob- 
tained her only score. For five minutes the ball hovered 

230 


A NARROW MARGIN 


around midfield, and then Duveen punted to the ene- 
my's thirty-two and the Brackett’s quarter caught and, 
eluding Mansfield and Hickson very neatly, scampered 
along the side line until Keller threw him at North 
Bank’s thirty-six. Two attempts at the left of the 
Light Blue’s line gained four yards and then Brackett’s 
pulled off her only really worth-while forward pass 
of the day. It was a throw following a double pass 
and went more than twenty yards across the field to 
a waiting half back. Omstead had put the end out, 
but the half had eluded him, and, although Keller, 
speeding to the scene, nearly spoiled the catch, the 
Brackett’s man pulled the ball down and scampered 
unchallenged to a touchdown! 

As afterwards proved, the wind alone saved the day 
for North Bank. The Brackett’s full back kicked from 
almost in front of the goal, but lifted the ball too high 
and an obliging breeze caught it and deposited it gently 
inside the crossbar! 

Although both teams struggled hard during the rest 
of that period and all through the last, no more scoring 
resulted. Substitutes were thrown in regardless to- 
ward the end on both sides, and every player on the 
North Bank bench was used. Jerry started the fourth 
period, but gave way to Gray before the last. While 
he was in he had a taste of the difficulties of punting 
into a strong wind, and on one occasion watched horri- 
fiedly while the pigskin encountered a sudden harder 
gust and came to earth less than twenty yards from 
where it had started. Twice, though, he managed long 
231 


KICK FORMATION 


kicks by keeping the ball low. Number 21 was the 
only one of the new plays tried that afternoon, and if 
the Cumbridge scouts, of whom three were uncon- 
cealedly present, had expected to profit by the journey 
they must have felt disappointed. 

The final score of 7 to 6 indicated very fairly the 
comparative merits of the two teams that day, but 
brought no particular encouragement to North Bank. 
For several days the school was inclined to be pes- 
simistic regarding the Cumbridge contest, since, two 
weeks before, the Dark Blue had beaten Brackett’s by 
the one-sided score of 19 to 6. Yet by Wednesday, 
which day witnessed the final hard practice session of 
the year, hope had returned and dismal forebodings 
were no more in favor. After all, Cumbridge looked 
no better on paper than her rival. Although she had 
won five games and lost two, while North Bank had 
won four and lost three, she had scored fewer points. 
The Light Blue had run up a total of 76 against her 
opponents’ 54, while the Dark Blue had scored 65 to 
her opponents’ 58. This, and the fact that on Sat- 
urday Cumbridge had made rather a poor showing 
against a confessedly weak adversary, were made the 
most of by North Bank. Cheer meetings were held 
almost every night and as the great day approached 
enthusiasm waxed higher and higher. 

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were devoted to 
perfecting the Light Blue’s offense and learning the 
new signals. The fouil new plays, 21, 22, 23 and 24, 
were practiced over and over. The title Number 24 

232 


A NARROW MARGIN 


had been given to the variation of 23 that changed that 
forward-pass play into an unexpected punt by the left 
half back. Every night there was a blackboard drill 
in the rowing room and by the middle of the week 
the eighteen plays that had finally been selected for 
use against Cumbridge were well learned. These plays 
included six straight bucks, two splits, a crisscross, a 
delayed pass, three end runs, four forward passes and 
one concealed kick. As all but one of these, the latter, 
could be used on each side of center, North Bank was 
to enter the big game with thirty-five plays. 

There was no morning punting work for Jerry that 
week, for Mr. Thome prohibited it tersely. As it was, 
Jerry went to bed at night with his head so filled with 
football that another speck would have cracked it open. 
His conversation those days included no subject not 
intimately connected with the gridiron and Tom dis- 
gustedly told him that he was no longer a fit associate 
for sane persons. His studies suffered, you may be 
sure, but so did those of some twenty-six other youths, 
and the instructors treated him with sorrowful patience 
and postponed the day of reckoning. Somewhat to his 
surprise, Jerry had managed to add twelve pounds to 
his weight between the middle of October and the 
twentieth of November, and, although the last few 
days of the season threatened to take toll of this gain, 
he promised to emerge from his football experience 
many pounds to the good. Sometimes he wondered 
if his brain would hold out, but it did, in spite of 
Tom's assertions to the contrary. Tom was outwardly 
233 


KICK FORMATION 


a very unsympathetic companion during that final week 
of stress and excitement, but at heart he was rooting 
hard for his chum. 

The second disbanded on Thursday, after some 
twenty minutes of kid-glove opposition to the first, 
cheered themselves most enthusiastically while they 
paraded around the campus and then assembled at the 
jumping pit to make a bonfire of all the worn-out 
football paraphernalia they could lay their hands on, 
and, joining hands, circled the pyre madly, to the de- 
light of the onlookers. 

There was no practice on Friday save a short signal 
drill and an enlightening talk by Mr. Tibbs on the 
Cumbridge attack and defense. Mr. Tibbs had watched 
the enemy play the preceding Saturday and seemed to 
have returned with a very healthy regard for her 
prowess. Friday, on the whole, was a hard day to live 
through. In the evening a brief blackboard drill was 
held a half hour earlier that the players might attend 
the final cheer meeting. Jerry found this a discon- 
certing experience, especially as Fate denied him a 
seat in the back row on the platform and he was forced 
to sit for quite fifteen minutes with a frozen grin on 
his face in full view of some one hundred and seventy 
shouting maniacs. He was very glad when, to a final 
thunderous cheer, he was allowed to escape with his 
companions and crawl into a bed that never felt more 
grateful. At midnight, however, long after Tom had 
gone to sleep, he was still staring into the darkness. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


“ARE YOU READY, NORTH BANK?” 

N ORTH BANK awoke that Saturday morning 
to find a dull sky overhead and a chill, damp 
breeze blowing from the southeast. “That,” 
muttered Jerry, as he looked disapprovingly from the 
open window and clutched his pajamas closer, “means 
a wet ball.” 

“Yes,” agreed Tom over his shoulder, “and it means 
a wet stand. If there’s one thing I like more than 
another, it’s sitting on a ten-inch plank in a rain for 
two hours, with my knees under my chin and some 
one’s feet in the small of my back. It’s just about my 
idea of a pleasant way to spend an afternoon !” 

“We ain’t had much rain this fall,” continued Jerry 
thoughtfully, “and I don’t know will we play so well. 
Seems like we might have had a good day, don’t it?” 

“Well, as the distance between North Bank and 
Holly is only about a dozen miles I guess they haven’t 
had any more than we have,” replied Tom. “So it 
looks to me as if both teams would start even. If 
you’re quite through admiring the landscape you might 
pull the window down.” 


235 


KICK FORMATION 


By the time breakfast was over Jerry’s fears were 
realized, for a soft drizzle was falling, the sort of 
patient, effortless, insistent rain that promises to keep 
on until the wind moves into another quarter or the 
moon changes or some other mutation of Nature takes 
place. A half dozen of .the players gathered at the 
entrance of the Hall and gazed disconsolately forth. 
The school in general was much too excited to allow a 
little thing like the weather to affect it, but with the 
players it was different. Some of them had got out 
of bed that morning with distinctly jumpy hearts and 
stomachs that rebelled at the mere thought of food. 
They felt decidedly low in their minds, and contempla- 
tion of the impending battle brought no exaltation. 
On a bright, sunny day they might have borne up fairly 
cheerfully, or, at least, might have concealed the fact 
that they could discern little that was worth living for, 
but now, viewing a damp, chill, bedraggled world, they 
abandoned all pretense of light-heartedness and became 
so many pictures of gloom. These, of course, were 
the less experienced fellows, those who had never faced 
Cumbridge, although it was not unusual for a veteran 
to show a distinct indifference for food on the last 
day and a distrait countenance. Jerry, perhaps be- 
cause he had never seriously considered the importance 
of victory or the gravity of the occasion, was not espe- 
cially disturbed. He had had difficulty in getting to 
sleep last night, but that had been less a matter of 
nerves than a too-active brain: at midnight he had 
been still listening to imaginary signals and translating 
236 


“ARE YOU READY, NORTH BANK?” 


them into imaginary action. This morning, save for 
a mild dissatisfaction over the weather and a half- 
formulated wish that recitations hadn’t been aban- 
doned, he felt much as usual. What he was to do be- 
tween nine and half-past eleven was causing him more 
concern than anything else. Don Sears spoke for all 
when, breaking a long silence, he asked in heart-felt 
and disgusted tones : 

“Isn’t this the doggone limit?” 

All those present agreed that it was, but agreed si- 
lently. Gray thrust his hands deeper into his trousers’ 
pockets and scowled. . Corben blew his nose miserably. 
Crook made a faint sound in his throat that may have 
been meant for a cough but sounded like a sob. James 
finally found speech. 

“What time’s dinner?” he asked cheerlessly. 

Corben shuddered as he answered : “Eleven-thirty, 
I think.” 

“Who wants to eat at that time of day?” growled 
Crook. “Why don’t they feed us over at Holly?” 

“Ever been in Holly?” inquired Sears meaningly. 

“If dinner doesn’t taste any better than breakfast 
did,” laughed James mirthlessly, “I pass !” 

“Reckon we’ll be hungry enough by then to eat,” 
said Corben. “I know I shall.” But that was just 
bluff, and he knew it and so did the others. None, 
however, questioned the statement. They sympathized 
with his pathetic effort to sustain his pride, and Lee, 
who was almost six feet tall and played tackle, voiced 
support in a deep bass. 


237 


KICK FORMATION 


“Sure,” he agreed. “We'll eat like woodchoppers 
after being outdoors all morning.” 

“Outdoors!” echoed Corben protestingly. “Where 
do you get that stuff ? Outdoors in this weather ?” 

“Sure! Thorne said we were to take a long walk, 
didn't he ? Gosh, what else is there to do ? I'm going 
to, anyway. Who wants to come?” 

“I'll go,” said Jerry. “Reckon I'll have to get 
some old clothes on, though.” 

“Do you think he meant we were to walk if it 
rained?” asked Sears dubiously. “It's a swell way to 
catch cold.” 

“Put an old sweater on,” suggested James. “Being 

out will sort of keep your mind off ” He stopped 

in embarrassment. 

“Oh, go ahead and say it,” growled Crook. “It'll 
make us forget to be scared to death. That's what's 
the trouble, and I don't mind acknowledging it!” 

“Honest confession is good for the soul,” laughed 
Lee, and some of the others echoed the laugh uncer- 
tainly. “Come on, the whole bunch ! Get your sweat- 
ers on. The procession moves in ten minutes from 
Baldwin. And bring your friends !” 

Over a dozen took part in the walk that, with Jerry 
and Lee leading, developed into a cross-country tramp. 
Once started, it proved real fun and there was a no- 
ticeable rise in spirits. The drizzle continued remorse- 
lessly, but with sweaters pulled high and hands in 
pockets none minded it. Their way took them across 
meadows and fields to the railroad and then back by 
238 


“ARE YOU READY, NORTH BANK?” 


the track as far as the little station and so home over 
a slippery clay road. They sang football songs and 
forgot their depression, and even played larks on each 
other, and got back to school at half-past ten or a* 
little after with, as Sears put it, greatly improved 
morale. 

Jerry found Ted Ingraham awaiting him in Number 
7 with Tom and Joe. Ted was clad for the occasion 
in a weatherproof trench coat that gave him quite a 
swagger appearance and which, perhaps for that rea- 
son, he had resolutely refused to lay off. He was 
cheerfully optimistic on the subject of the game and 
prepared to prove, with only a pencil and paper for 
aid, that the Light Blue was good for two scores more 
than the Dark. Joe ridiculed the contention but de- 
clined to listen to proof. 

"I’ll be satisfied if we win,” he said, “and I don’t 
care if it’s by only one point, like the Brackett’s 
game.” 

“Either you’ll win by a good, decisive score or you’ll 
get beaten,” declared Ted. “Mark my words, Kirk- 
ham. There’s no halfway business possible. Of course, 
I’m barring flukes.” 

Joe laughed derisively. “Oh, sure ! Barring flukes ! 
Did you ever see a game where there weren’t flukes, 
Ingraham? You can’t bar them, son. I wish you 
could. Flukes are what win games — and lose ’em !” 

“And a wet field is a grand place for them,” said 
Tom. 

“That’s right,” agreed Joe. “Given a wet field and 

239 


KICK FORMATION 


a slippery ball, Old Mister Fluke is sure happy ! What 
I hope is, he'll play on our side! Feeling fine and 
fit, Jerry ?” 

“Me? Yeah, I’m all right.” 

“Fm blessed if I don't believe you are! Anyway, 
you look it. Guess you don't have nerves. I don't, 
either, only I’ll be mighty glad when the game has 
started! It's hanging around and thinking about it 
that gets my goat. Oh, well, it'll be all over in five 
hours, and I should worry! ‘So it's rip up the 
Cumbridge team! Tear up the Cumbridge team! 
Smash ' ” 

“Have a heart!” begged Tom. “I've got to watch 
you play, Joke, but it isn't right I should have to hear 
you sing!” 

“Let me tell you, old son, I can sing tackle just as 
well as I can play tenor,” said Joe indignantly. “Speak- 
ing of singing, I wish my duties weren't going to pre- 
vent me from hearing you lead to-day, Tom! Have 
you ever heard him try to sing, Jerry? Isn't it grand? 
He's a great little old cheer and song leader, Tom is!” 

Just then Jerry discovered that it was nearly half- 
past eleven and Tom's response was lost. Ted In- 
graham intercepted Jerry at the door and whispered 
a question, and Jerry, patting a pocket, nodded affirm- 
atively. “I'll see you on the train,” he said. “Don't 
miss it!” 

Dinner went off rather well, after all, although 
there wasn't a great deal of it. Those whose appetites 

240 


“ARE YOU READY, NORTH BANK?” 


were still uncertain found the repast hearty enough, 
while those who could have eaten more consoled them- 
selves with thoughts of the banquet to come in the 
evening. At twelve the school hack made its first trip 
to the station bearing suit cases and paraphernalia and, 
on top of all, Manager Naughton and his assistant. 
It was speedily back and was filled again to overflow- 
ing, this time with players only. Two more trips were 
made, the black mules dashing up to the platform on 
their last journey just as the train arrived. Several 
of the fellows had, however, elected to walk, and Jerry 
was among them. He and Gus Ashley paired off and 
tramped cheerfully side by side over the red clay road 
in the drizzle that, for the time, was obligingly no 
more than a heavy mist. Ashley was good medicine 
for Jerry, for the latter was inclining toward nervous- 
ness in a mild form and the big right half back had 
been through the mill and was blessed with a fine as- 
surance. 

“Don’t think anything about who the opponent is, 
Jerry,” he advised. “It’s a punk idea to keep telling 
yourself that you’re up against Cumbridge, because 
if you do you get sort of scared if it’s your first time. 
Cumbridge isn’t any better than we are. Maybe not 
so good. Just play as hard as you can and don’t start 
out with the idea that the other fellow is a marvel. 
It’s a safe bet you won’t have to work any harder than 
you’ve worked lots of times against the second. And 
keep it in mind, too, that if you’re anxious the other 
fellow’s anxious. You’ll get along all right!” 

241 


kick: formation 


The tiny shelter that did duty as a station was lost 
from sight in the crowd that surrounded it. There 
was a later train that would get its passengers to 
Holly in time for the beginning of the game, but it 
appeared that every one had elected to go by the earlier 
one, and in consequence there was standing room only 
after the members of the team and a very few lucky 
noncombatants had been seated. Jerry yielded his seat 
to Trumbull and went back on a search for Ted In- 
graham. He found him at last wedged into a corner 
of the platform on the rear car and there was a whis- 
pered conference that lasted until the destination was 
almost reached. Whispered isn’t exactly the right 
word, either, for with nearly two hundred fellows 
singing, cheering or, at the very least, laughing and 
talking, and the cars bounding and jouncing over the 
rails, their whispers often became hoarse shouts. 

At the Holly station three automobiles engulfed the 
players and the rest of the throng formed four abreast 
and, with light blue banners waving, marched in pro- 
cession through the little town and out to the school. 
The team went directly to the gymnasium, where a 
corner of the floor had been curtained off for their 
use, and changed into togs. When all were ready they 
gathered about the coach and listened to his final in- 
structions. 

“There’s nothing much to say to you fellows,” said 
Mr. Thorne soberly. “You’ve learned your lesson and 
all that’s left is to apply it. You can win this after- 
noon if you play the game as you can play it. And I 
242 


“ARE YOU READY, NORTH BANK?” 


feel perfectly certain that you’re going to win. I want 
every one of you to feel that way, too. I want you to 
start in with the knowledge that a victory is ripe to 
your hand. It isn’t going to fall into your lap. You’ve 
got to work for it. But it’s got your name on it. 
It’s yours for the plucking. You’ve got a score to 
settle with the enemy, fellows. Last year they beat 
you when they had no license to. I’m not going into 
the why of that. You and I know what happened 
last year. We both made mistakes during the season 
and we got licked. Things are different this year, I’m 
glad to say. We’ve all pulled together and we’re going 
to reap the benefit of it. And we’re going to take 
revenge. We’re going to fight clean; remember that; 
but, oh, boy ! we’re going to fight hard ! When the last 
whistle blows Cumbridge is going to be licked, and 
she’s going to know it! And she isn’t going to have 
enough kick left to steal the ball from us, either!” 

There was a wild shout then, a shout that held 
laughter, but laughter that was grim. Mansfield called 
for a cheer for the coach, and it was given thunder- 
ously, and then they piled through the doorway and 
trotted down the sloping field to the gridiron, twenty- 
six blue-armed, blue-legged warriors eager for battle. 
Behind them, with slower steps, came the coaches and 
the managers and the trainer, the army behind the 
army. From the stand came the Light Blue’s welcome 
to the team, at first quick and sharp, at the end slow 
and deep, the “regular cheer” : 

243 


KICK FORMATION 


Ray, ray, ray! Ray, ray, ray? 

North Bank! North Bank! Ray, hurray! 

Ho-o-o-rah! Ho-o-o-rah! No-o-rth Bank! 

Two squads took the field and ran through forma- 
tions, and Jerry, Duveen, Omstead and Keller started 
kicking, the last two practicing goals. Cumbridge fol- 
lowed onto the field a few minutes later and again a 
mighty cheer arose. It was closely followed by a sec- 
ond from the North Bank side as the visitors cheered 
the enemy, returning a compliment already paid to the 
Light Blue. Cumbridge and North Bank mingled on 
the gridiron and cheer answered cheer from the stands. 
The drizzle had turned to a brisk shower and the 
banks of spectators looked drab and colorless under 
raincoats and umbrellas save when they momentarily 
blossomed with blue. Tom Hartley and Sanford, the 
crew captain, white-sweatered, bare-headed, swung 
pale-blue megaphones or sent them bounding to earth 
as they led the cheers and songs. Now North Bank 
was booming forth its most sanguinary anthem, feet 
beating time on the wet boards. 

Rush them, crush them back to their goal? 

We’re fighting Cumbridge to-day ! 

Hit them, split them, open a hole! 

Drive back the foe in dismay! 

Break them, take them right off their feet 
Just as you’ve done it before! 

Crash them, dash them, slash them, smash them ! 

Pile up a real North Bank score! 

244 


“ARE YOU READY, NORTH BANK?” 


As the song ended in a long-drawn appeal the two 
teams trotted back to the sides and blue blankets were 
donned as the benches filled. Out in midfield a youth 
with dark blue stockings and a youth with light blue 
stockings watched a coin spin upward and fall to the 
wet sod. A murmur of satisfaction swelled to a cheer 
as Captain Mansfield turned and waved his hand. 
North Bank had won the toss! 

A last brief conference between coach, captain and 
quarter back, and then Mansfield called to the bench : 
“On the run, fellows ! Cumbridge kicks off from the 
west goal. Let's go!” 

The Light Blue cheered and stamped as the eleven 
warriors trotted away, and light blue banners waved. 
Umbrellas were furled, sometimes protestingly, and 
the rain fell remorselessly on friend and enemy while 
Cumbridge lined up for the kick-off and North Bank 
spread her players over the field. Then, clear in the 
sudden silence, came the voice of the referee: 

“Are you ready , North Bank ?” 

“ Are you ready , Cumbridge?” 

A whistle blew shrilly! 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 

W ITH one exception North Bank started the 
game according to predictions. Lee had taken 
Hickson’s place at left tackle, but all the other 
positions were filled as they had been filled for a 
fortnight: Mansfield was at left end, Jackson at left 
guard, Norris at Center, Conger at right guard, Kirk- 
ham at right tackle, Butterfield at right end, Keller 
at quarter, Omstead at left half, Ashley at right half 
and Duveen at full. It was whispered along the bench 
that Hickson was in trouble at the Office, but that 
youth himself, squatted beside the trainer, looked quite 
untroubled. 

It was Omstead who pulled down the kick-off and 
who was neatly tumbled on his head near the twenty- 
yard line, tumbled so forcibly in fact that time had 
to be called almost before the game had started. North 
Bank claimed every second of the two minutes allowed 
and the time was evidently none too long for Omstead. 
Even when he was on his feet again, he appeared still 
confused and dizzy. Keller spared him through two 
attacks that tried out the enemy’s left side, attacks 
that netted less than two yards. Then he was called 
246 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 


on and went sliding off tackle on the other side for 
three, and proved his recovery. But Duveen had to 
punt then and it was Cumbridge’s ball a moment later 
between her forty and forty-five yard lines. 

It was then that she threw a brief scare into the 
Light Blue. A split buck in which left half carried 
the ball outside of tackle worked twice for good gains 
and the Dark Blue was in her enemy’s territory. Then 
came, on second down, a fake forward pass and a wide 
run by the full back that again gave Cumbridge her 
distance. A real forward pass grounded and quarter 
back made three through Conger. Another plunge at 
the same position was stopped and, with seven to go, 
the Dark Blue punted to Keller on his twelve yards. 
Tub juggled the ball but held it and, with Mansfield 
aiding, dodged back to the twenty-two before he was 
stopped. 

For a while each team tried out the opposing line 
without much benefit, punting when forced to, and the 
ball changed hands regularly. The field, although 
wet, was not as slippery as North Bank had expected 
it to be and the backs kept their feet. There were 
several fumbles as the ball accumulated moisture, but 
none was costly. The quarter dragged uninterestingly 
to its end, the teams sharing what honors there were 
very evenly. Neither had shown its hand yet, although 
each had played straight football hard and fast. 

The first “break” came when the second quarter 
was some three minutes old. North Bank, stopped on 
the enemy’s thirty-seven yards, punted over the goal 
247 


KICK FORMATION 


line and the Cumbridge quarter made the mistake of 
running the ball back. Apparently he had a clear field 
along one side line and probably he made sure of get- , 
ting back as far as his fifteen. But Kirkham proved 
his Nemesis. Somehow the right tackle had eluded 
the enemy defense and as the quarter shot across the 
five-yard line he appeared suddenly out of the ruck.- 
The runner tried to dodge him, but Kirkham out- 
guessed him and the two went rolling out of bounds 
at the ten yards. Cumbridge sent a back hurtling at 
the short side of the line, but he was stopped with no 
gain and without getting the ball over the side line. 

A wide run that sent four men ahead of the ball 
brought the pigskin to the sixteen, but Cumbridge 
chose to play safe then and punted. It was Omstead 
who caught, standing just behind the fifty-yard line. 

Keller sprang ahead of him as he started away and 
the two raced straight forward. Keller sent a Cum- 
bridge man sprawling at the forty and, a few paces 
later, went down himself, taking with him, however, 
another of the enemy. North Bank strove to build a 
hasty interference about the runner, but Omstead was 
going fast now and his team mates were outdistanced. 
Avoiding the enemy as it streamed toward him, he 
edged nearer and nearer the side line. At the thirty 
yards he tried to recover ground on his left, but was 
headed back and a moment later, dodging a tackier, he 
stepped out at the twenty- four. 

“Touchdown! Touchdown !” implored the North 
Bank rooters as the ball was paced in and set down 
248 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 


close to the twenty-four yards, while, from across the 
field, came an answering slogan. "Hold ’em! Hold 
’em! Hold ’em!” chanted Cumbridge. Keller piped 
his signals, snatched the ball and swung toward his 
backs. The latter crossed to the left and smashed past 
tackle. The lines heaved and swayed and broke, and 
Keller, the ball snuggled to the pit of his stomach, 
turned and knifed himself through between guard and 
tackle on the right, plumped into a back, squirmed 
around him, was tackled and went down, still lighting 
for inches. North Bank’s supporters, on their feet, 
cheered wildly, and the dull sloping bank broke into 
light blue. 

"Second down!” called the referee. "Six to go!” 

It was Ashley close off tackle on the left this time, 
the back-field starting as before and throwing all its 
weight into the play. Perhaps the play looked so much 
like the preceding one that the Dark Blue was fooled. 
In any case, once past tackle, Ashley found a clear 
field for three yards and after that fought on for two 
more with enemy backs hanging to him. Cumbridge 
insisted on having the distance measured, more as a 
means of gaining breath than anything else, and the 
line showed the ball a full two feet past the pole. 

"First down!” The referee skipped aside. 

"Come on, North Bank !” shouted Keller. "Make it 
good ! Get into this hard ! Let’s have a score ! Come 
on! Come on! Come on!” 

Straight plunging now, Duveen first outside left 
guard for a short yard. Then Ashley for a bare two 

249 


KICK FORMATION 


on his own side. “Third down and about seven to 
go!” Ashley next on a straight buck at right tackle, 
Kirkham pinning the guard in, Butterfield charging 
the tackle out, Mansfield swinging through to get full 
back, Duveen stepping back and faking a forward pass, 
Omstead going to the left. Four yards more, but still 
three short of the distance! 

“Get up !” shouted Keller. “Signals !” 

“Tear them up!” yelled Mansfield, hoarsely. “Let’s 
have it, fellows ! Once more !” 

“Fourth and about three,” cried the referee. 

“On side, Cumbridge left end!” warned the lines- 
man. 

“Omstead back!” commanded Keller. “Hold that 
line, North Bank! 32 — 13 — 42 — 84! 32 — 13 — 


“Block it !” shrieked the Cumbridge captain. “Smash 
’em! Get through! Block that kick!” 

But there was no kick to block, for Omstead, the 
ball tucked under his left arm, his right ready for 
tacklers, had started toward the end. Before him, a 
quickly moving wall of interference, went Jackson, 
Keller, Duveen and Ashley, the left guard swinging 
from position and preceding Keller through the hole. 
It was Duveen who put the opposing end out. The 
play went like a charm and Omstead plunged through 
for six yards and placed the ball four feet from the 
enemy’s goal and just short of the right-hand post. 

Up the field the stands were shouting continuously, 
North Bank’s triumphant cheers met by the grim en- 
250 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 


treaty: “Hold ’em! Hold ’em!” from Cumbridge. 
But there was little hope of holding them now. It 
was first down, with the besieged lined squarely on 
their last white streak, and the besiegers already tasting 
victory. 

Yet desperation will compass marvels. Duveen. 
smashed straight ahead between Conger and Kirkham 
and made less than a foot. A second attempt inside 
of Conger yielded no gain. Keller scolded and 
pleaded. From across the line came the frantic, im- 
ploring voice of the Dark Blue’s leader and the shrill 
yelping of the quarter back. 

“Throw ’em back, Cumbridge! Get down, Mason! 
Let’s stop ’em again! Into it, fellows! Smash ’em 
back! Hold ’em! Hold ’em!” 

A whistle blew and a big, rangy Cumbridge lineman 
dug his way through to the referee. 

“Right guard, sir!” 

Keller viewed him swiftly as he pushed into the line. 
Then the whistle piped again and Keller bent once 
more. “Let’s make it, North Bank! Hard, hard! 
Signals !” 

Then Ashley was plunging across, had the ball and 
was into the line. Straight at the new guard he went, 
but the guard wasn’t there, for Jackson had done his 
work, and Ashley went through, stopped, went forward 
again and down, with half the enemy upon him. 

Up the field, blue flags swirled, blue megaphones 
waved and a mighty bedlam of sound proclaimed the 
touchdown ! 


251 


KICK FORMATION 


Omstead had no trouble making a goal when the 
ball was brought out, and on the score board the white 
6 changed to 7. 

There was still six minutes left, and Cumbridge, 
thirsting for vengeance, came back mightily. Captur- 
ing the ball on her twenty-eight yards, she was pres- 
ently forging toward the farther goal, mingling des- 
perate forward passes with attacks outside tackles and 
somehow constantly gaining. Twice sheer luck aided 
her progress; once when a forward pass, thrown too 
short, was tipped by Butterfield and so diverted straight 
into the hands of the receiver, and once when the Dark 
Blue’s right half fumbled the ball and it was recovered 
by an end five yards nearer the North Bank goal. Yet 
once past the thirty-yard line, Cumbridge’s gains 
lessened and, at last, near the twenty-five, two downs 
left her with three to go and after a forward pass had 
grounded she sent her right half to kicking position 
and prepared for a placement kick. 

North Bank’s supporters visioned a 3 beside the 7 
on the score board, for the play was directly in front 
of goal and the distance was slightly under thirty-five 
yards. The Light Blue did her best to break through 
and spoil the effort, but Cumbridge’s line held like 
a stone wall, and away went the ball, safely above the 
upstretched hands of the leaping enemy. There was 
an anxious silent moment, and then a shout of relief 
burst from the Light Blue side of the field, for the 
ball had passed just under the crossbar! 

A minute later the half ended and the two teams 
253 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 

streamed off the field, blue blankets trailing, while 
North Bank, under the lead of Tom and Sanford, 
broke into cheers. 

North Bank’s players and substitutes, coaches, man- 
agers and trainer, swarmed to the improvised quarters. 
Riordan was as busy as a cat on a hot griddle and the 
pungent odor of liniment filled the place. A babel of 
talk arose. The coaches, heads bent, conferred in low 
voices. The door of the wide hall opened and a 
boy in a tan raincoat hurried across the floor. Naugh- 
ton sprang to meet him. 

“What do you want? The North Bank team has 
this hall !” 

“There’s a telephone call for Jerry Benson,” an- 
swered the intruder. “Is he here?” 

“Yes, but he can’t go.” 

“They say it’s important.” 

“Mr. Thorne! Here’s a fellow who says Benson’s 
wanted on the ’phone, important. Can he go?” 

“Of course not! Hold on! How much time is 
there?” 

“About twelve minutes ; eleven and a half.” 

“All right, Benson! Hurry up, though. You’re 
wanted next half.” 

“Yes, sir, thanks,” answered Jerry. “Where is it?” 

“I’ll show you,” replied the obliging messenger. 
“Come on.” 

Outside, Ted Ingraham chuckled as they hurried 
across the campus. “That was easy,” he said. “Got 
everything ?” 


253 


KICK FORMATION 


“Yes. Are there many fellows about ?” 

“Quite a few. Reckon they won’t be up there, 
though. Here’s the building. I’ll stand outside the 
booth and whistle. Once means that some one’s com- 
ing in, twice that they’re going upstairs. Good luck, 
Jerry!” 

There were two telephone booths at the left of the 
wide corridor as they entered the building and both 
were empty. The partly-opened doors of several class 
rooms gave glimpses of black-boarded walls and de- 
serted seats, but from one end of the longer corridor 
came voices and the ticking of a typewriter. 

“School office, I think,” whispered Ted. “Turn to 
your right at the top of the stairs. You’ll see the cases 
about halfway ” 

“I know! Watch the door!” Jerry swung to the 
stairway and darted up swiftly. From the landing, 
halfway, he saw through a wide window the field and 
the stands and the moving throngs below them. Then 
he was in a lengthwise corridor, deserted, silent. There 
were doors at intervals on either side, and, midway 
between staircase and corridor ends, were cross corri- 
dors forming deep alcoves. It was toward one of 
these that Jerry turned his steps, wishing that his 
cleated shoes made less sound in the echoing stillness. 
As he went he eyed the closed portals doubtfully. It 
would have been a vast relief to know that none would 
open suddenly upon him and his burglarious deed ! 

But the doors were forgotten an instant later, for 
here was the alcove that Ted had described. At its 
254 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 


end was a low, broad window. In the center was a 
table, rather dusty, flanked by two chairs. Against 
its walls were two massive cases with double glassed 
doors, and from the one to his right peered forth 
the oval, goblin faces of .many footballs. One quick 
look and Jerry’s misgiving was banished. There hung 
the football with the all-white inscription just where 
Ted had said it would be! Jerry dropped a hand into 
a pocket of his sweater, listening intently. All was 
still save for the faint ticking of the distant type- 
writer. 

When his hand was withdrawn it carried a string 
of nearly two dozen keys. Dropping to one knee, he 
examined the lock. It was simple enough, just such 
a lock as is usually found on old-fashioned bookcases, 
and wardrobes. He tried his first key and found it 
too small, tried the next with no better fortunes. His 
fingers moved awkwardly in spite of his efforts to 
work calmly and methodically, and all the time he 
listened intently for Ted’s warning whistle. One key 
after another failed to work. Some were too large 
to enter, some too small, while those that did slip into 
the hole either refused to turn or, turning, failed to 
move the bolt. More than half had been tried and 
Jerry’s heart began to sink. He had not provided 
himself with any means of forcing the door, although 
he saw now that that would be an easy task. Even a 
stout screwdriver inserted between door and casement 
would doubtless disengage the bolt sufficiently. Still, 
to cause damage to Cumbri dge property was not with- 

255 


KICK FORMATION 


in his scheme, would not, he held, be playing the game. 
Recovering the stolen football by unlocking the case 
was one thing. Obtaining it by breaking and entering 
was quite another. Perhaps the distinction was rather 
a delicate one, but Jerry was satisfied with it. 

But four keys on his string remained untried and 
his hope was dwindling fast. Those that were left 
looked no different from several he had already tested 
and he saw no reason to expect better results from 
them. Meanwhile, too, the moments were flying and 
he had agreed to be back on the field in time for the 
resumption of play. To him it seemed that all of those 
eleven minutes must have gone. Another key failed 
to fit, and another. Only two left to try now, and 
failure stared him in the face. From the dim recess 
of the case the oval faces seemed to look mockingly 
out at him. Then, suddenly, his heart leaped! The 
last key save one turned with light resistance and there 
was a faint click within the lock! And as his fingers 
tugged eagerly at the key and, with a creak, the door 
yielded, there came to him one shrill whistle from the 
lower corridor ! 

Jerry's hand stayed and he listened with fast-beating 
heart. He could hear footsteps plainly down there. 
Would they become fainter or louder? Then two 
more whistles reached him. He sprang to his feet and 
looked around for a place of concealment. He had 
not provided for such a contingency and the bare al- 
cove offered no refuge. He thought of opening one 
of the closed doors near at hand and stepping inside 
356 


THE STOLEN FOOTBALL 


until the danger had passed, but suppose the intruder 
was bound for that room ? There was still the chance 
that the footsteps sounding briskly on the stairs would 
turn to the left instead of to the right when they gained 
the second floor corridor, and Jerry comforted him- 
self with that hope. Meanwhile, since concealment 
was out of question, he stepped away from the case, 
moved to the window and stared out, his back to the 
corridor. Of course if the person approaching ob- 
served that Jerry’s legs were clad in light-blue stock- 
ings explanations would be in order, but the alcove 
was dim this rainy day and perhaps, seen against the 
light, the color would pass unnoticed. 

Jerry’s ears strained as the intruder reached the top 
of the staircase. Then his body grew tense. The foot- 
steps were approaching! Resisting the impulse to 
look, Jerry kept his face resolutely toward the win- 
dow, though he saw nothing of the blurred landscape 
without. With his hands clasped behind him, he strove 
to look meditative and, above all, casual. The steps 
came nearer and nearer, were passing! No, for, just 
when Jerry started a long breath of relief, they 
stopped ! He knew that the person had paused at the 
mouth of the alcove and was staring at him. He could 
imagine the surprise and puzzlement on the fellow’s 
countenance. Indeed, to find a chap in football togs 
gazing idiotically from a window of School Hall at 
such a time was enough to puzzle him! Jerry heard 
the intruder clear his throat as though to speak. Yet 
he didn’t speak, and, after a moment that seemed all 
257 


KICK FORMATION 


of a minute to Jerry, the footsteps went on, and pres- 
ently, further along the corridor, a door opened and 
closed and from beyond it a whistled football tune 
sounded cheerfully! 

Jerry sprang back to the case and, indifferent now 
to noise, tugged at the key. The glass door swung 
outward with loud creakings. In another instant the 
football was in his hands, the door was closed again 
and locked and the keys were back in his pocket. Then 
with quick fingers he unlaced t&e ball and let the air 
from it. It took much precious time, but he was un- 
doubtedly already late and he might as well be hung 
for a sheep as for a lamb! Before the ball was quite 
flat he thrust it under his sweater and ran. On the 
stairs he went more slowly and looked cautiously over 
the banisters. But below only Ted was visible, Ted 
looking upward with a very anxious frown. Jerry 
fairly plunged down the rest of the steps and, dragging 
Ted with him, raced through the door and down the 
steps. 

“Have you got it?” whispered Ted hoarsely. 

“Yes! Hurry up! I’m later than the dickens!” 

“Late? What's the matter with you? You've got 
four minutes yet.” 

“What?” gasped Jerry incredulously. 

“Sure!” Ted fumbled at a sleeve and exposed his 
watch to view. “If you don't believe it, look Jor your- 
self.” 

“Golly!” Jerry slowed his pace. “I thought I was 
up there about twenty minutes!” 


CHAPTER XXV 


EXIT JERRY, SINGING 

O N the field the spectators were finding their 
seats again and cheer leaders were watching 
the end of the stand around which the return- 
ing warriors would soon appear. The drizzle still 
fell gently, inexorably, and the stands were fairly 
roofed with umbrellas. But on one side of the grid- 
iron at least no amount of drizzle would have quenched 
the high spirits. Even an equinoctial gale would not 
have brought dismay to the Light Blue. Until a few 
minutes since her supporters had sung and cheered un- 
interruptedly throughout the intermission. Nor had 
Cumbridge refused the challenge. North Bank’s songs 
had not been the only ones to float up toward the leaden 
sky, nor had North Bank’s cheers gone unanswered. 
In spite of the score board’s story the Dark Blue was 
undismayed. 

Suddenly a shout started at the farther end of the 
visitors’ stand and passed along it, growing in volume 
and finally merging into “a regular cheer for North 
Bank, fellows, and make it good !” Around the corner 
trotted the Light Blue team, muffled in blankets, and 
crossed the gridiron to the benches while flags waved, 
259 


KICK FORMATION 


and cheer leaders motioned and many throats shouted 
acclaim. The rival team followed a few moments later 
and the other stand broke into a thunderous welcome. 
Then, while a few belated ones scampered to their 
places and umbrellas disappeared again, the teams took 
the field and the last half began. 

Cumbridge gave the kick-off to North Bank, and 
Conger, having teed the ball to his liking, sent it off, 
arching lazily, toward the east goal. Cumbridge cap- 
tured it near her twenty and it was down close to 
the twenty-five. Then began a desperate advance by 
the Dark Blue. All she had been taught was turned 
to account, every one of her eleven warriors fought 
as he had not fought before and every ounce of weight 
and brawn was thrown into the plays. For a few min- 
utes North Bank fairly wilted before the attack. Cum- 
bridge seemed to have found a new speed, and a hith- 
erto unused play in which full back and one half, 
starting from close behind the line, hammered the 
guard and tackle positions, made gain after gain until 
North Bank’s necessity fashioned a defense against it. 
Its success lay in its speed, and to meet it Keller shifted 
an extra guard to that side of the line and played him 
a yard back. When gains no longer came from that 
play, the Dark Blue returned to her regular formation 
but without any let-up of her determination. Past 
the middle of the field she went, slamming and bang- 
ing at the opposing line, making her distance time 
and again ; frequently by inches only, but always mak- 
ing it. 


260 


EXIT JERRY, SINGING 


James went in for Conger — Billy was pretty well 
battered by then — Hickson for Lee, and Cleary for 
Kirkham. On North Bank’s forty-three the advance 
slowed up. Three tries netted but six yards. Cum- 
bridge threatened a punt, but it developed into an end 
run by full back, and Mansfield, refusing to be drawn 
in, ran the enemy across the field and finally laid him 
low for a four-yard loss, while from the Light Blue 
stand came a roar of relief and delight. 

Jerry had not started the half, after all, but now 
Coach Thorne called him along the bench and he bent 
his head and listened to the instructions. Then he was 
off, hand upraised, across the muddy, trodden field. 

“Left half back, Mr. Referee! Toss me your head 
guard, Jack!” 

Keller eyed him questionably, but Jerry met his look 
blankly. The stands were cheering Omstead as he 
trudged off the field to the bench. North Bank lined 
up on her forty-one yards, her face toward the distant 
goal. One plunge into the line by Duveen and a 
two-yard gain, and then came the “22” signal. Left 
end fell back, took the pass and ran up the field. The 
backs raced to the left. Butterfield was clear and well 
into Cumbridge territory when Mansfield turned and 
threw. Yet, at the last moment, the pass was spoiled. 
A dark-blue arm shot into its path and the ball bounded 
aside and went to earth. The teams went back to the 
forty-one and Keller’s voice sounded again, undis- 
mayed. 

“Kick formation! Benson back!” 

261 


KICK FORMATION 


Then came the signals. Jerry, every nerve tense, his 
heart racing, steadied himself for the pass. Back 
came the ball, he stepped forward, swung his leg and 
heard and felt the impact. Then the lines merged, 
forms jostled and swayed and, eluding a plunging Cum- 
bridge forward, he sprang away in the wake of the 
ball. That was a punt that made North Bank gasp be-; 
fore it broke into loud applause. Even the enemy 
voiced approval, though unwillingly. High and far 
and straight went the pigskin, corkscrewing in its 
flight. Down there, almost under the shadow of his 
goal, the Dark Blue’s quarter was edging back and 
back. Near the ten yards he was when his arms closed 
about the ball, and near the twenty when he was thrown 
by Butterfield ! 

Courageously, Cumbridge started again on her jour-, 
ney, yet now she was less assured and her attack was 
slower. Once only she made her distance. Then 
she punted. But the Dark Blue’s punter was no fifty- 
yard man, though no mean kicker. The ball was 
caught on North Bank’s forty-seven and the Light 
Blue sprang again to the assault. Two tries at the 
left of the line and the ball was on the enemy’s forty- 
six. Then again came the call for “22,” this time re- 
versed, and the ball traveled almost twenty yards 
straight into Captain Mansfield’s arms for a gain of 
twelve. 

Cumbridge began to throw in her reserves now. 
Two new back-field men appeared and a new left end. 
Duveen went through for four yards outside left tackle 
262 


EXIT JERRY, SINGING 


and Jerry got two past left guard. Ashley made one 
at the right of center. On fourth down, with three 
to go, Keller again elected to punt, and again the com- 
mand came : 

“Kick formation! Benson back!” 

Cumbridge tried heroically to block that kick, but, 
although she did trickle through dangerously, Jerry 
got the ball away clean and hard. The punt was not 
so long as the first one, for it didn’t need to be. Mans- 
field was waiting when the Cumbridge left half caught 
and spilled him on his six yards. Cumbridge punted 
on second down to her forty-one. So the duel went 
on, North Bank gaining from five to ten yards at each 
exchange, Cumbridge trying all her tricks to hold 
ground and failing. The quarter ended with the pig- 
skin on the Dark Blue’s thirty-two. 

There seemed now no doubt of another score for 
North Bank, nor was it long delayed when the fourth 
period opened. One more punt by Jerry from his 
thirty-yard line to the corner of the field, and then two 
brave attempts to run the ends and a forward pass that 
grounded, and Cumbridge punted again. This time 
Keller caught it on the twenty-six and, Ashley inter- 
fering, sprang across three white lines before he was 
pulled to earth. From the enemy’s fourteen to her 
nine yards the ball went in two tries by Duveen and 
Ashley. Then came the signal for Number 23 ! 

The backs lined up as usual in straight three-abreast 
formation. Keller turned and stepped to his right 
and shot the ball back to Jerry. Duveen sprang to the 
263 


KICK FORMATION 


left, Ashley and Keller to the right. Alone and un- 
threatened, Jerry poised the ball on upstretched hand 
and waited. Then Butterfield's hand waved from well 
beyond the scrimmage and Jerry threw. Too late 
Cumbridge saw what had happened. Butterfield sprang 
into the air, caught the pigskin, turned and fairly fell 
across the line ! 

Keller tried the goal but failed. 

On the board the score stood 13, and the North 
Bank stand was a howling, swaying mob. 

Eleven minutes remained, however, and Cumbridge, 
faced by certain defeat, strove to save her honor by 
scoring. Taking North Bank's kick-off, she fought 
back nobly, but her former “punch" was gone and 
long forward passes, despairing efforts none too well 
executed, formed the bulk of her attack. Only once 
did 'she threaten, and then, having reached North 
Bank's thirty-six yards, she tried a placement kick that 
was foredoomed to failure. 

Just before the end came North Bank added her 
third score. Jerry had punted from his forty, Cum- 
bridge had fumbled and Crook, at left end, one of 
many substitutes sent in at the last, had fallen on the 
ball on the Dark Blue's twenty-four. Cleary again 
called for “23" and again the play triumphed. 

To Jerry fell the task of converting the added 6 
into a 7, but goal kicking was not his forte and he 
failed miserably. Yet no one seemed to care when, 
a moment later, the final whistle blew. For 19 to o 
was a stupendous score, and North Bank scarcely 
264 


EXIT JERRY, SINGING 


dared believe it true! Down onto the field surged 
her supporters and formed into a procession, and, 
cheering and singing, dancing and waving, weaved a 
sinuous length about the sodden, battle-scarred grid- 
iron. Over the crossbars of the goals, first one and 
then the other, sailed hats and caps, sweaters and mega- 
phones, and even an occasional umbrella! Shouting 
filled the air. Cumbridge, on her stand, chanted the 
school anthem and looked down gamely if dazedly. 

At length the marchers congregated before the Dark 
Blue cheering section and comparative quiet fell, 
through which boomed the hoarse voice of Tom Hart- 
ley, cheer leader: "Regular cheer for Cumbridge, 
fellows ! All together ! Make it good !” 

And it was good. And Cumbridge answered vali- 
antly, and as the last note died away a strange vision 
took shape before her. Below on the field a tow- 
haired youth, hoisted to the shoulders of four proud 
companions, held to her gaze a football. It was not 
the ball just captured, but another. On its dark blue 
field it displayed the legend : 

C. H. io 
N. B. o 

Then slowly it turned, and on its other side, against 
a faded gold background, was the inscription : 

1915 

N. B. 24 
C. H. 2 

265 


KICK FORMATION 


Cumbridge gazed for a long moment in silence and 
amazement. Then understanding came and a low 
growl of wrath started and deepened as it traveled 
over the stand. But even as it grew in volume it was 
punctured by laughter, and then laughter and cheers 
mingled ! North Bank laughed, too, and howled back 
her triumph long and loudly ! 

Then the procession was formed again and, cheering 
steadily, the victors marched away, Jerry and the stolen 
football still aloft ! 

It was a very happy Jerry who, swaying there, 
looked down over the sea of bobbing heads, happy in 
spite of the fact that the drizzle had again turned into 
a downpour and that he was tired and lame, wet and 
dirty. For North Bank had won gloriously from her 
ancient rival and he had helped! And so, still clasp- 
ing the stolen ball, he joined his voice to the voices 
of all the others as the procession drew up in front 
of the gymnasium and sang as lustily as any: 

Old North Bank, to you our allegiance we pledge. 

To you we will ever be true ; 

Though far we may wander, our hearts still will be 
Back here ’neath your banner of blue! 

We’ll cherish the Light Blue, the bright blue, the right hue, 
Unfold it, uphold it, and fight for it, too! 


THE END 


( 1 ) 





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